


Sanctuary

by beezlebubz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream being a little shit, Drunk jschlatt, Found Family, Gen, Ghostbur, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Relationships, Pogtopia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Techno's execution, Techno's voices, depressed wilbur, emotional support dadza, techno's cabin, this fic is mostly techno ngl, tommy's exile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezlebubz/pseuds/beezlebubz
Summary: You find yourself caught up in a war after making a deal with a certain man in a mask, and everything spirals into a complete shitshow.  But even in the less-than-perfect situation you're in, some good things arise along the way.
Relationships: Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)/You, DSMP/Reader, Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF)/You, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)/You, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & You, Wilbur Soot/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 270





	1. Walk With Me

**Author's Note:**

> [ DISCLAIMER: all the characters in this story are based off my interprets of the characters in DreamSMP, separate from the creators. all the relationships in this story are strictly platonic and if any of the members of DreamSMP are uncomfortable with this, it will be taken down :) ]
> 
> anyway uh !!! hi !!!!! and welcome to the first chapter of this disaster fic lmao, I'm hoping to update this once a week, and it will have a set update schedule starting on Wednesday!
> 
> hope you enjoy the first chapter folks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idiot breaks out of prison

For a split second, you almost thought your eyes had closed. The room around you was a calming pitch black that seemed to numb your senses and pull you deep into your imagination. The kind that paired with the incredibly loud silence around you created a perpetual ringing in your ears and reacquainted you with the sound of your quiet breathing and heartbeat.

The kind that, for a moment, if you focused enough, you could almost convince yourself you were at home. On your warm, cozy, dry bed. Sharpening your prized sword or mindlessly doodling on some scratch paper until you felt drowsy enough to sleep.

But no. This was most certainly a prison. Yep. Your "bed" was most certainly just a block of cement, and that was unmistakably the sound of knuckles against heavy, thick stone. 

You grunted as you pushed yourself upright, your neck and back aching from your resting space. Your chain restraints rattled as you reached up to stretch--stiff bones popped and cracked, muffled by your yawn as the stranger knocked once more, just a smudge more demanding this time around.

This was no stranger, though. You knew exactly who it was.

A small part of you smirked in amusement at the thought of rolling over and going back to sleep, and at the likely temper tantrum the man would pull at your cell the next day.

It probably would be funny, but you had the common sense not to piss of the president of your team's number one enemy country.

Unlike some people.

"Come in." Your voice was scratchy and underused, groggy from your few hours of half-sleep and trailed with a heavy sigh.

The door opened with the cringe-inducing sound of stone grinding against stone. A yellow light filled the room as the door opened fully and a man stepped in--brandishing a torch that flickered against the ceiling and brought a small amount of warmth to your freezing cell.

The man himself was tall and lanky in stature. He sported two ram-like horns that spiraled around each side of his head, framed by thick lamchop sideburns and a mess of dark hair. As usual--he was in dress clothes--the top of his white shirt unbuttoned and his signature red tie laying haphazardly across his shoulders. He was older-looking, but that could mostly be due to his evidently failing health and stress left unmanaged.

Being a president was hard--even if your country had a population consisted of, like, ten people at any given time. Those who stayed in Manberg were known to never stay for long, after all. 

Schlatt's tired gaze flickered towards you, his indifferent stare oncing you over as he stepped into the room--and you matched his gaze with one holding tenfold the amount of annoyance at being disturbed.

The president himself wasn't sure what he was doing, or what to make of you to begin with. You didn't fight to break out of your prison, but you still scabbled with Schlatt's security and made the occasional sarcastic remark about your containment. For some reason or another, the man was drawn to you. You confused him.

But, also, mostly because you were the only one around who seemed to fight with him. The only one who challenged his ideals; despite being intoxicated during his rambles. However, even after weeks of his haphazard interrogations and conversations he still didn't get any useful information out of you about Dream or Wilbur. Maybe it was partially his fault--he did tend to stray off topic while drunk, after all--but his point still stood.

But, tonight, for reasons unknown to you, he felt the need to visit your cell sober. Which was...worrying...to say the least.

You came to the conclusion that J. Schlatt was the both the stupidest and the saddest man alive, during your many late-night talks. And that realization led to some deep late night conversations through your iron door that almost, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 seemed therapeutic. Just like two kids at a sleepover past their bedtime, confessing their secrets to eachother.

Accept you were a prisoner, and the man before you was quite the opposite of a friend.

"You're awake." Schlatt's voice, a unique mezzo-soprano evidently damaged by cigarettes, pulled you from your thoughts. "Care for a walk?"

You simply raised an eyebrow at the odd request. "That depends."

"Well, you don't exactly have much of a choice." He pulled his sleeve back to look at a watch that wasn't there. "I have things to do and a mission to propose to you."

"A mission?"

"Actually, more of an order."

"You've finally gone crazy if you think I'd ever take orders from the likes of you."

"Fine. A deal, then." He growled, before the jingle of some keys sounded throughout the room. "I don't have all night, come on."

Your heart thudded, "you trust me not to run?"

"Where would you go if you did?"

You frowned. He was right.

Wordlessly, you stood up and approached him. The key clicked into place smoothly and with one small turn, your restraints clattered to the floor. Leaving red irritated skin in their wake.

You rubbed at your wrists as you followed Schlatt down the hallway. The bottoms of his boots clicked against the stone floors, occasionally hitting a small puddle with a splash. Shadows turned to watch you pass as the light from his torch danced across all the little crevices in the stone. The occasional drip of water tapped against your head and shoulders, and you began to wonder if he had this prison recently built just to accompany you. Or just to say he had one.

The latter wouldn't be too out of character, you supposed.

As your eyes wondered about your new surroundings and Schlatt led you through a plethora of winding hallways, a purple glint at his side caught your eye.

A sword was strapped to his side, the obvious enchantments on it hidden by the dingy sheath it was slid into. But the intricately carved handle was something unmistakable to you, such a hauntingly important item that had stuck with you through every moment up to that point. Every battle won and every battle lost. Every house you've lived in, every trail you walked on.

𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 

He kept your sword.

Schlatt led you up a haphazard and uneven staircase that seemed to almost go on forever, and you soon came to realize that he had taken you into an old strip mine and disguised it as a prison. 

He cursed as he shoved the old wooden entrance open, and stepped to the side to hold the door open for you.

You stepped out into the low light, squinting your eyes as you took in your first breath of fresh air in however long you were shoved underground alone. It was raining steadily, the welcoming scent filling your nose and the chill of the air nipping the skin the dingy prison uniform (which consisted of a dark tunic and baggy pants tucked into knee-length boots) didn't cover. 

You could hear Schlatt snort behind you as you stepped out into the rain and held your arms out--welcoming the refreshing weather. You inwardly thanked whatever higher being above suddenly possessed the President to bring you out that night.

A few more moments of silence passed as your hands dropped to your sides, your hair now plastered to your face as you turned to the man studying you curiously behind you. You dropped your arms back to your sides, resting them back on your hips with another lengthy sigh.

"So," you began, rocking forwards and back on your heals. "The deal."

He shut the door, "the deal."

"What do you want?"

"I'm under the impression that you're one of Dream's most skilled assassins?"

You frowned, running your hand back through your now-damp hair. "My loyalties don't lie with Dream anymore than they lie with you." 

Schlatt hummed, "yet you betrayed Wilbur to fight at his side during that stupid little revolution."

"That little 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 led to you becoming president." You snapped, "so I would watch your tongue, Schlatt."

That seemed to shut him up for the time being. Or aggravate him further. Nevertheless, you were too tired to care.

Footsteps clicked against stone bricks once more as he approached, standing out in the rain beside you as you continued to relish the fresh air.

If there was one thing you did learn about Schlatt over the weeks you spent in containment, it was that he didn't take kindly to being talked down to. That was clear in his expression, as his nostrils flared in attempts to keep his cool after your call-out. He was trying to get on your good side.

"You know..." he began again, whipping a flask out and shoving his free hand into his suit pocket. His tone was light, that mutual tension between enemies gone from his tone as if it was a casual conversation you both were having. "Things don't have to be this way."

You stayed silent, your hands dropping from your hips to your sides as Schlatt began to pace.

"I mean, think about it." He mused, "me; president of the strongest nation this piece of the world has to offer. Infinite wealth, power, and strength at my very fingertips. If we joined together, well..."

He smiled wickedly, before turning to gesture to the many houses and structures the overhang of the White house looked over. "This could be your's, too. I'll make you the general with a powerful army at your fingertips. We would be unstoppable! You will never again have to rely on doing Dream's dirty work just to get by on whatever shitty things he gives you."

You felt a hand on your cheek as he steered your face to look at him, tired brown eyes made contact with your's as he stared at you. You could smell the gin on his breath as he spoke, "I just need you to make sure those walls never come up again."

"Enough with the bullshit." You batted his hand away. "What do you need me to do?"

He chuckled again, lowering his hand completely and raising the flask to his lips. "I need you to tie up the loose ends."

"You're fucking senile if you think I'm killing those guys so you can keep playing monarch." You snapped. "What you said may be true, but I know my limits. And I know messing with Technoblade's shit is worse than suicide."

Schlatt's hand came to the sword at his waist as he clicked his tongue, your first name sliding off his lips in a warning manner. "I'll ask you one more time." He said slowly, "you either stick with me, and gain everything you've ever wanted; or I slit your throat here and now and send your head back to Dream as a warning." He held a hand out. "So what will it be, then?"

Your hands tightened into fists. "I..."

Of course you were reluctant. 

You tried to remain neutral in everything. That was your one principal. If someone proposed an old score for you to settle; you vowed to yourself you would hold nothing to them. No strings attached. No ends left untied. No reason for people to turn on you. No evidence of your murders left unattended for people to trace your location.

And you were pretty damn good at what you did, too.

Then there was after the war, and things became much different. Suddenly, there was no work for you. And desperate times led to desperate measures and empty promises. And now, broken principals.

Because anything, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 was better than you taking your final breath in a dank prison at the hands of none other than J. Schlatt and his little cult following.

And if that meant killing a few old friends; then so be it.

"Fine." You finally decided, taking his hand. "You have a deal."

···

The static-ridden sound of an unauthentic Stal disc was nearly drowned out by the drunken laughter that filled the room. Glasses clinked as people swore and shouted like a bunch of rowdy teenagers--nevermind if some of them were even old enough to be drinking or not.

As long as Schlatt was in the room, anything that didn't negatively effect him in particular was legal. 

And that, notably, caused much chaos.

You were seated beside the president, who lounged at the head of the table with his boots propped rudely atop the Acacia wood--twirling a glass of red wine in his hands and smiling wickedly at nothing. His right hand man sat adjacent to you, arguing insistently with someone you recognized from the war, and one of the two last people you expected to be seated at that table.

Fundy didn't spare you a glance the whole time he was there. 

Tubbo did, though.

The boy awkwardly shuffled to sit a little ways across from you, the pristine blue and red uniform he once wore with pride now replaced with a dark suit similar to Schlatt's in color scheme. You couldn't exactly read his expression, but he kept glancing up at you as he poked at his food--trying to spike up a conversation. Other than that, he kept to himself at the far end of the cabinet's table.

You made little conversation, and steered clear from the alcohol. Instead humming along to the beat of Stal as you tried to filter out the sound of the music over the conversation around you--smirking to yourself as you fondly remembered the President's rather hilarious drunken rant about how much he hated that particular disc.

Your last small rebellion against Schlatt before you began to work with him. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he was hiding it well. 

You were torn from your thoughts at the feeling of someone brushing against your arm to sit down next to you. You jumped slightly, but your eyes widened in surprise as Tubbo sent you an unsure smile.

"Sure is awkward sitting here with no one to talk to, isn't it?" Tubbo said, hoping to strike up a friendly conversation. His British accent was refreshing among the talk of the other Americans.

You nodded, averting your gaze. "I guess so."

"I take it you're not here on your own terms?"

You shook your head. "Not exactly." You replied, "I'm more of a prisoner with free range than a General, if you ask me."

Tubbo blinked, almost with confusion, and opened his mouth again to speak. Schlatt interrupted him before he could as the man sprung up from his seat suddenly  
\--standing atop the wooden chair and hitting a fork against his glass.

Everyone quieted down immediately, and turned their attention to the man who cursed quietly as he constantly lost and regained his balance on the chair. The jukebox was quieted.

You frowned, making a mental note to yourself to collect your disk at a later date.

"Citizens of Manberg." Schlatt began, his tone light and disarming but slurred after a night of drinking. "I would like to thank everyone for making the time to come out here tonight. It's been a while since we've had the whole gang out, eh?"

The table exploded in a short uproar of cheers. "Yessir! Yessir!"

"But I would like to take a moment of time to explain the elephant in the room." Schlatt flicked his gaze to you, motioning for you to stand as well. "The newest member of our team."

Your gaze ignited in a short bout of panic, before you took a breath and promptly flipped him the bird with a stare--before you stood to your feet.

"There's no need for introductions, you all know who they are." Schlatt said off-handedly. "They have agreed to join in our efforts to finally put an end to the sorry excuse of a president that was Wilbur Soot. They have decided to contribute to our cause, and join our country! Boys and--...oh, and girl...--a round of applause for your new general!"

As the table irrupted in praise and applause once more, and you dipped your head in a small bow of reluctant gratitude--you caught Tubbo's eye again. 

Shock. That's what his expression held. Betrayal, even.

It made something shatter in your chest, and as you stood there you suddenly felt like your iron armor was constricting your chest and binding your arms. Suddenly, the whole room knew all your deepest, darkest secrets and intentions.

You were going to be sick.

You muttered a quick 'excuse me' before quickly stepping down. You circled around and grabbed your disk, shaky hands shoving it haphazardly into your inventory before you tried to seem nonchalant in exiting the overwhelming room.

Once you were out of sight, you sprinted outside.

You whipped off your armor and let it clatter to the ground, but still your breathing came quick. You heard footsteps behind you--you were being chased. Shit. Fuck.

You busted through a door and outside. Your ears were ringing as you leaned against a wall, trying to get a hold of your breathing.

Why did you make that deal?!

You fucked up.

You 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 up.

You were on the wrong side of his war. Right? J. Schlatt has done nothing but screw everything up for his own selfish reasons. He was slowly falling apart, physically and mentally. At least Wilbur had good intentions and could handle the high-stress that came with being president.

But Wilbur put up walls. Wilbur was a tyrant. Wilbur was 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘯 by his own people, stabbed in the back by his own promises of democracy. He wasn't the right side either. Dream was no longer an option for reasons you tried to shove back into your mind before they overwelmed your brain.

Then which side was the right one?

The sound of your first name quickly pulled you right back out of your spiral. And you suddenly found you were able to breath and see again. You quickly straightened yourself, and swallowed back the panic that threatened to overcome your mind.

"I'm fine." You breathed, forcing the words from your throat, "just needed some air."

Schlatt snorted, coming closer. The light from the room fell across the dark balcony, illuminating the area and the late-summer moths that rushed to the lanterns inside. The sound of crickets filled the air, paired with the howling laughter and shouts of those who were inside.

"You look spooked," Schlatt observed with a frown, tilting his head in feigned interest. Yellow light formed a thin halo that traced the round curve of his horns and reflected across his brown gaze. He carried your iron helmet. "What, having second thoughts or something?"

You swallowed, and turned to face him. "You gave me iron armor."

"So what?"

"The other guards are in netherite. Even Tubbo." You narrowed your eyes, "You don't trust me, do you?"

Schlatt blinked, then laughed. He wiped a fake tear from his eye before approaching you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You caught that purple glint on his side again. "Common, man! You're the best assassin this world has to offer! You have to earn my complete trust before you do anything. You are on Dream's side, after all. Common--walk with me."

You nearly flinched away, your heart still pounding in your chest; but you let him begin to lead you down the path anyway.

It was quiet at first as you began to devise a plan in your head, Schlatt was the first to speak.

"It's crazy how fast these people flock to new leaders." He hissed, staring out across the landscape as he navigated down the steps. "One person supports the president and suddenly everyone gets roped in. It's almost amazing how stupid they can be. Kind-of like sheep. Even Tubbo is following in my footsteps."

"They're not stupid." You insisted, "and you're insulting the very group that got you up on that podium to begin with."

"Right." He laughed drunkenly, "I keep forgetting."

Your hand began to sneak around his back and rest on the sheath of your sword. Just the tip of your finger grazed across the leathery material.

"But, still, it worries me." He admitted, moving a hand to his chin. "If Wilbur gets his hands on anyone--" he bit back his statement suddenly.

"If Wilbur...what?" You wrapped your hand, slowly, around the handle. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

Schlatt cursed quietly to himself. He seemed to be relying on you more for balance than guiding you down the path. This was it. Your one perfect chance.

"Nothing." He waved you off, "nothing. Just--...this damn liquor fucking with my hea--"

With a quick movement, you dislodged the sheath from his belt and swung around to the side. Schlatt barely had the chance to get a word in before you sent the end of the handle down against the side of his skull, knocking him to the side and temporarily stunning him as he tumbled back over to the ground.

You didn't waste a second as footsteps began to sound against the floors inside. Shit. They heard you.

You jumped up onto the railing and over the side of the building, promptly landing on your feet and starting in a dead sprint towards the forest. Your heartbeat roared in your ears, paired with the rythumatic sound of your boots stumbling through the brush.

"What the hell?!"

"It was the new general!!"

"Holy fucking shit!! Get them!"

"Would you 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 stop swearing?!"

Shouts of all kinds irrupted from Schlatt's cabinet as some rushed to their presidents aid while others started after you. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you shoved branches and bushes aside, blindly running through the woods. You swallowed, desperately searching for a place to hide.

Fuck.


	2. Nicotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local fugitive joins a rebelion, adopts the role of mom friend

You ran until you thought your legs would give out, and even then you still heard a few people still on your tail.

Getting desperate, you turned and slid down a muddy hill before climbing up another. You found yourself in an unfamiliar part of the forest as you looked for a place to hide now that you had bought yourself a few moments of time. Your gaze desperately scanned the forest, before something caught your vision.

A half-constructed stone tower was erected in a small clearing just through the trees at the foot of a hill, just a little bit taller than you were.

You quickly took advantage of your newly-found discovery and stumbled over towards the structure. You climbed in and settled yourself against a wall in the darkness, right beside a small peephole where a block or two was missing from the cobblestone. You forced your breathing down to a normal pace as you stayed absolutely still.

"Where did they--"

"Shh!! They could still be around." The unmistakable voice of Quackity barked. "Look everywhere. Every goddamn inch of this forest if we have to. Can't let that fucking traitor get back to Wilbur."

Schlatt thought you were a traitor.

The thought hurt you a little more than you would like to admit.

Damn it.

You peeked around the bricks just as the red tail of Fundy flicked by, ears flat against his head as he scanned his surroundings with his bow loaded. A small breath left you. If anything; him and Tubbo were the last people you expected to side with Schlatt. Only adding to the valuable assets lost due to the new president's charisma.

You pursed your lips as you carefully sat back against the stone again--heart racing wildly.

There had to be some way out of this--some way to distract them long enough to escape.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fu

An arrow whistled past your head, earning you a flinch as it bounced off the stone and clattered to the ground. Your full body tensed, your heart jumping.

"Fundy, stop wasting our good arrows!"

"That wasn't me, Q! I swear!"

Your eyes followed the path of the arrow before your gaze landed on a flash of red atop the tree looking above the tower.

A blond boy stood on the branch above you, looking down at you with one arm wrapped around the trunk of the tree--and a bow in the other. His gaze flashed with relief as you finally spotted him.

"Tommy!" You exclaimed, vaguely recognizing the teenaged right-hand man of Wilbur himself.

"'Ow do?"

"What the hell are you doing?! This is enemy territ--"

"Saving you, obviously! Come on," he urged, glancing back towards where your pursuers ran off too before sticking his hand out to you. "Before they get back!"

Without any further thought or hesitation, you jumped up and grabbed his hand--pushing your foot against the trunk to propel you further up onto the tree.

"Are you injured?"

"No, but--"

"Let's go," the boy stuck his hand out again, "Wilbur is expecting you."

"I--" Your mouth opened and closed again, "You know I can't, Tommy."

"Are you seriously still going on about that?" Tommy rolled his eyes. "The war's over, man. Your old principals don't mean shit. He'll 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 me if I don't lead you back! Common!"

He didn't leave you time to argue as he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. If you didn't know any better--you would say he had been waiting there in the tree all night.

You turned back towards L'manberg, and discovered you could see the city just enough through the trees to make out the balcony of the Whitehouse.

You sighed, clutching your sword tightly with your free hand. "You saw what happened back there?"

Tommy nodded hesitantly, "Wilbur put me on Nightwatch. I saw the commotion outside the Whitehouse, but I had no idea you were here. How--what the hell were you doin' in L'manberg?"

You blinked. 

He didn't know?

"Long story." You put it shortly, and to avoid the subject entirely. A sigh left your mouth as the adrenaline in your body began to give away to fatigue. "Just...are you leading me somewhere or not?"

Tommy stared at you for a few moments before nodding. He checked once more to make sure Fundy and Quackity were far from sight before he grabbed your hand again and helped you down from the trees.

He led you to the hill, where the soft, muddy area gave away to a stone cliff covered in overhanging vines. With a quick but silent movement, Tommy pushed the vines away to reveal the entrance to a cave. Cold air leaked up from the cavern, sending goosebumps up your arms and down the back of your neck.

"Common, we don't got all day." Tommy urged, giving your wrist a small tug as he struck a torch and you followed him down into the hole.

A strong feeling of deja vu washed over you, but this time you dropped your guard. Tommy wouldn't hurt you. These people were friends.

No, scratch that--allies.

You were safe there in that cavern, but the part of you that spent a few months trapped in an underground prison had you still on edge.

You shoved the fact that you were Schlatt's Public Enemy Number One to the back of your mind for later as the cavern gave way to a giant opening in the ground.

As much as you hated to admit it; the breath left your lungs. The combination of lanterns flickering as they hung of the rocks by chains, the bridges zig-zagging across the ravine, and the little spots of moonlight that leaked in from the world above made the area seem that much more magical.

Tommy seemed to catch onto your amazement, and promptly snorted in response. "Welcome to our humble abode." He outstretched his arms sarcastically before they fell back down to his sides. "Just...watch where you step. Wilbur really did a pretty shit job on the bridges."

"You're all idiots." You sighed, "you do know that Schlatt's out for blood, right? And you're hiding...what...a few hundred blocks away? In a ravine?"

"Yeah." Tommy concluded, tugging at your wrist again to guide you further down the steps that spiraled down below. "This isn't permanent, though. We're just here until we have a plan. Wilbur said that they'll all be searching to the ends of the Earth for us, so there's no point in going far."

He was right, you supposed.

Still, you marveled at the sight around you as Tommy dragged you down the rest of the steps.

Chests were placed along the sides of the ravine, along with a few make-shift beds and the old remains of a campfire. Water dripped from the stalagmites hanging above, occasionally hitting your clothes or your forehead.

Well, it didn't top the cozy bed Schlatt supplied you with in Manberg, but definitely topped being in his prison.

"There's some extra beds and stuff in that chest. Take what you want...I don't care." Tommy said with a sigh as he stood back up to his feet. "Techno's out doing shit, the bastard's never around for long. Wilbur's around here somew--"

"Tommy! There you are."

Dark brown, curly hair was shoved into a black beanie--some spilling out the side and falling over one of his brown eyes. You almost didn't recognize him at first, the memory of him standing proud in a field sporting a blue, red, and white soldiers' uniform still fresh in your memory. It was a shock to see him so disheveled and beaten, almost as much as seeing Tommy the same way. 

Wilbur jumped down from another hallway, landing almost gracefully. He had an armful of supplies and food that looked to be from a nearby village. Despite his frazzled appearance, his countenance remained strong and determined as he presented the small amount of items to his companion.

"I managed to get some supplies from the village." He explained, "it's not much, but, at least we'll be able to eat tonight. Tubbo told me to give you this, and that he's swinging by later this week to talk."

Wilbur dug around in his pocket before pulling out a black disc with a green label, holding it out for the blond to take.

"Holy shit!" Tommy took it immediately, his face lighting up. "Did you grab the ender chest too?"

"Of course, of course..." Wilbur trailed off when he noticed the other person in the room, and his expression dropped to one of shock immediately.

You mirrored his addled stare as the space filled with a strange emotion, your heart jumped in your chest as words failed you for a few moments.

"Wilbur," the name slipped dumbly through your mouth.

What the hell were you supposed to say? "Sorry for trying to assassinate you"? "Sorry about the election"? Or even just a simple "I missed you"?

Words piled into your brain, causing you to blank out. You had too much to say but no courage to say anything. Regret pulled at your heart strings. You shouldn't have come here.

Tommy cleared his throat into his fist, tearing you from your thoughts. "You two need some time alone or--"

"What are you doing here?"

You frowned at Wilbur's question, trying to detect the emotion in his tone. "I..." You tried to gather your thoughts again before you took a breath, rolling your shoulders. "I'm here to help."

You spoke without thinking.

For a second, a big part of you expected Wilbur to explode. Yell at you, stab you, arrow you, explode you, just...something. You deserved it, after all. The events of the revolution were something you held heavy in your heart, and that was what caused you to decide then and there that you would no longer do friends. You snorted inwardly at yourself. Add that to the list of broken principals.

But instead of monologuing and yelling--instead of giving you what you deserved, he simply tore of a piece of bread of what he had in his arms and offered it to you.

"Welcome to Pogtopia." He said, with a smile.

···

Tubbo visited a few days later with more supplies and some rather disturbing news.

Tommy was, of course, ecstatic to see his brown-haired counterpart, nearly tackling the shorter male the second he descended the steps of the ravine. You were hesitant to face him at first after what occurred with Schlatt--but he was quick to explain that he thought you were already on Pogtopia's side.

"Oh," you chuckled with relief. "I thought..."

"What's in the past is in the past. We have more important things to worry about right now." Tubbo explained with a quick shake of his head and a smile, "whatever we do, we can't let Schlatt get a hold of you again."

"What do you mean?" Tommy pressed, "did something else happen?"

"He has a warrant out for your arrest, but the rest of us are wanted dead or alive. I didn't catch the rest of his plan, but...I know he wants you for some weird reason."

You nodded, "because keeping me at his side lowers the chance of Dream attacking. Schlatt tried to convince me to join his cause because he thought that would unite him and Dream."

"That makes a lot of sense, actually..." Tubbo muttered. "So what do you think we should do from here?"

You and Tubbo both looked to Tommy.

The taller blond hesitated, tensing nervously as he was put on the spot. He averted his gaze, thinking for a moment. "I actually have no fucking idea," he confessed quietly, before immediately perking up again. "But! We have something they don't."

Tubbo blinked, "we do?"

"Tubbo." Tommy chuckled, placing his hands on his friend's shoulders. "We got The Blade on our side, big man! And the best Assassin on this side of the Earth! We'll figure something out, promise. And we'll get our Manberg--no--𝘓'𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘨 back."

You squirmed slightly, suddenly reminded of why you wanted to remain neutral to begin with.

Nevertheless, the rest of that afternoon was lighthearted. You laughed genuinely for the first time in months as you listened to Tubbo and Tommy bicker over the last bit of bread Wilbur had fetched. You told them all about some of your travels, some of your experiences with Schlatt--and in return they told you about everything you missed in L'manberg.

It was quite surreal, having the gang all back together after everything that happened. The last thing you expected was to be sitting around a camp fire late at night with the very children you thought for sure you had scarred all those years back, having the best time of your life just fucking around and talking.

"Wilbur!" Tommy announced mid-sentence as he caught his friend carrying a chest back into the ravine. The brunet in question froze at the sound of his name. "Why don't you come and sit with us? You did bring your guitar, didn't you?"

"Not now, I'm busy."

"You're always busy, though! Just take a break for a bit, whatever you're doing."

Wilbur chuckled lightly, waving the boy off, "Later, Tommy, later." He reasured, before disappearing into the hallway.

"What's up with him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at the uncharactaristic behavior.

"Ehh," Tommy shrugged. "The guy's been hanging around Technoblade too much. He'll come around."

You eyed Wilbur as he milled about, searching through one chest after another and moving up and down the stairs in a focused haze. He averted his gaze from you as you watched him--curious as to what he was working on. You figured maybe he was just being polite and finding an excuse to avoid you.

You tried not to think on it too much.

All good things had to come to an end, though. And soon the campfire was stomped out and the lanterns dimmed. Tubbo left through the secret tunnel he came in from, bidding each one of you goodbye as he did so. Crickets chirped from far away as you stared idly at the stars above you--splotches of night sky an oasis of light against the dark top of the ravine. Tracing the many small, intricate designs on the handle of your sword with your fingertips. You shivered as you pulled your blanket further over your form, listening to the quiet snores of Tommy a few feet away.

You rubbed your eyes and glanced to where Wilbur's sleeping spot was. The blankets were still neatly folded--untouched since you had dozed off and then woken up from your nightmare. You sighed.

As if on cue, the steady sound of footsteps emitted from the staircase above you. Not wanting to seem weird, you shut your eyes tightly--your heartrate fluttering a little in your chest.

The footsteps were heavy, but relaxed. They got gradually louder before a boot hit the stone floor of the ravine, and the sound echoed throughout the silent space. They slowly stepped past you, paired perfectly with the small scrape of a sword against stone.

A chest creaked open across from you.

Your curiosity soon got the best of you, and you blinked your eyes open again.

A figure in a red cloak knelt down to search through the contents of one of the many chests. Long, pink hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, downturned ears poked out of it dotted with gold jewelry. A gold crown rested snug atop his head, shining in what little light leaked in through the ravine.

Your eyes widened as you stared on in wonder at the individual before you, quickly reminding your sleep-deprived brain that you were, in fact, on the same side of the war as this man.

The most feared individual other than Dream himself.

Technoblade pulled a red stick of dynamite out of the chest and inspected it for a moment, before shaking his head and whispering under his breath; promptly dropping it back into the chest. He searched some more before finding what he needed--a bundle of Redstone.

He lifted his head suddenly, and a singular pink ear twitched as he turned just slightly in your direction. 

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

Techno scoffed before closing the chest and continuing down into one of Pogtopia's many rooms.

You didn't open your eyes until his footsteps faded underground, and you pushed your blankets aside and stood up--dusting your clothes off.

You grabbed the lantern sitting beside your sleep space, using a spare match to light it and squinting as your eyes adjusted.

You turned to Tommy one final time as the blond turned in his sleep, sighing once more before slipping on your shoes and descending further into Pogtopia.

The hallway was lined with torches, and you admired how the group had already began to replace the stone walls to make it more home-like. It wasn't quite as eerie and cold as the big open ravine, but still dark enough to make you cautious.

You turned and immediately spotted yellow light emitting from a room to your left--spilling across the wall of the corridor. 

You swallowed and approached it, making your footsteps light and soft. Your hand slid across the cold wall as you pressed your ear to the door, listening to the voices whispering on the other side.

"...do the others know?"

"No. They don't. Not yet." Wilbur stated as his shadow passed the light--signifying his pacing. "If Tubbo is right and this festival is going to occur, it would be the best time to do it."

"Well I'm--I'm certainly not here to stop you," A deep, unfamiliar baritone voice replied. "But Tommy's not goin' to be happy."

"I know. I know he isn't." Wilbur growled with frustration. "None of them are, but..."

It was silent for a few moments before Wilbur sighed heavily.

"It'll be our last resort." Wilbur finally concluded, "if all else fails, if we can't figure out anything else to do...I'll--I'll press the button."

Techno grunted indifferently in response, and you ducked around another corner as he swung the door open again. "I should get going. You know how to find me."

Footsteps echoed once more down the hallway, and you stepped back towards the door when they faded out of earshot, peaking into the room.

Wilbur stood there. Shoulders slumped in defeat as he slid his beanie off and threw it at the wall next to him with a quiet 𝘧𝘸𝘸𝘪𝘱! He stared down at a long piece of paper, tapping a quil against it in thought. After a moment, he cursed quietly and crumpled the paper up, letting it fall to the floor and join the pile.

Something in your heart squeezed. He must be taking this the hardest out of anyone. 

Reluctantly, you stepped forwards, "Wilbur?"

He jumped, and whipped around to meet your gaze. His tired eyes held panic for a moment before he let out a breath, "oh." He cleared his throat awkwardly, "what are you still doing up? It's almost morning."

You shifted your weight from one foot to another, "I could ask the same thing to you."

He turned to look at his desk again, "just...trying to figure out where to go from here. It's easier to do at night so that the other two aren't around."

"Why's that?"

Regret shot through Wilbur's mind for a moment. Damn it. Curse this sleep deprivation.

Well...there was no hiding it now.

He sighed again. Longer, heavier. He dug through the pockets of his trench coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He hesitated, again, before turning to you. "Don't tell Tommy."

You weren't sure if he was referring to whatever he was planning or the pack of cigarettes.

Nevertheless, you shook your head. You reached over his shoulder to snag one as well. "I won't tell if you don't."

It was silent as Wilbur lit your cigarette and then his own, the smoke danced towards the ceiling as he reached a gloved hand out to smooth out the piece of paper; revealing it to you.

"Tubbo said that Schlatt's planning to announce a festival within the next few days." Wilbur explained once more, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "That's our best shot."

Your eyes widened as you scanned over the detailed map of Manberg. Several areas were circled and scribbled over in red ink--lines connecting each area and zig-zagging across the map.

All of it connected to a giant red box behind the city dubbed 'button room.'

Your eyes widened as you, literally and metaphorically, connected the dots. Your fingers traced over the intricate Redstone-mapping in thought.

"You know, I heard this saying once. 'You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.' I never really knew why it stuck with me, but now...now I think I understand it." Wilbur rambled, rubbing his freezing hands together as he wondered. "It's...it's all coming full circle."

"This is..."

"Look, I know it's crazy--" Wilbur dropped his cigarette and grabbed your hands, gently squeezing them in his own as you looked up at him in shock. "But you have to understand that the Constitution isn't on our side anymore! We can't legally do anything to get Schlatt out of office," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Please, I need you to understand. It's for the greater good."

"You told Technoblade this was plan B." You breathed, "what's plan A?"

Wilbur almost seemed to flinch, "that...that we still need to figure out." He admitted, before continuing, "but this..." He gestured to the map, "this is only a precaution."

You stared up at him, in shock that the very broken man before you was the same man that fought for the country not too long ago. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably with nerves as you met Wilbur's exhausted gaze.

You swallowed, "Promise? Promise me you'll only press it if it's necessary."

"Promise." He nodded, his grip on your hands loosening. "I just need to know...do you stand with us?"

It wasn't a threat. Or a demand. He wasn't forcing you to join him and promising wealth and prosperity like Schlatt had. He wasn't using you for your title, or your skills, or your sword.

Despite everything you stood for and everything you had done to him, that friendship from so long ago had rekindled in the blink of an eye.

You thought about it. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 thought about it.

"Yes." You decided, "Schlatt needs to be put in his place no matter what."

Wilbur sighed a final time, relief making his shoulders slump as he fell back into his chair--running a hand down his tired countenance. He was completely spent, and it showed in his voice as he muttered a quiet. "Thank you."

You nodded, swallowing heavily as you stomped out your own cigarette, frowning at how the nicotine still ceased to calm your pounding nerves.

"But," you said, changing the subject to something much more lighthearted as you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Only if you come back and get some rest. You look like shit."

He replied with a small nod, and didn't protest as you led him back to the main room of the ravine. He quickly retreated to his spot and was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and you went back to clean up Wilbur's office and little and lock it tight--your mind racing.

You didn't sleep that night.


	3. On My Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Festival.

"Killing Schlatt won't do anything. Killing Schlatt wouldn't fix a 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 thing..."

A fire crackled calmly in front of you as you mindlessly doodled on a piece of scrap paper, idly listening to your brunet friend ramble as he paced about the room.

You had just returned from scavenging the forrest for any sort of food or supplies you could find when you discovered Tommy and Wilbur had gone out to watch Schlatt officially announce the Manberg Festival. Which didn't come as a big surprise, considering Tubbo's inside knowledge, but tension was still heavy in the air as Wilbur became more and more on edge.

Tommy fidgeted with his bow, his brow furrowed in frustration as he looked up at the sound of his friend's angry ranting, mentally preparing himself for the festering lecture he was about to get for attempted assassination of the president.

"...Because then Quackity would just become president and who knows if that would be worse, and then George would be vice president and so on. But...look...it means nothing, Tommy. It wouldn't have mattered if you killed him or not."

"Wilbur," you warned, poking at the fire. "You're doing it again."

"Yes. Yeah, I know. I know." He sighed, pausing to squeeze the bridge of his nose before ignoring your call-out. He seemed to contemplate something, before he took a breath and turned to face his blond counterpart.

"Listen," he started. "I have a question for you two. This festival...it doesn't seem like a bad idea, right? It doesn't seem evil. It's just like a nice, friendly thing Schlatt's doing."

"Yeah, I guess." Tommy shrugged, "I mean...it could easily be a trick to lore us into--"

"Are we the bad guys...Tommy?"

The question made the teenager in question almost flinch, while your heart jumped as you realized the conversation Wilbur was 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 leading up to. You looked to Tommy, who shared your shocked expression.

"I mean, think about it." Wilbur chuckled humorlessly, "we just kind-of made ourselves the leaders, and then we had a vote, and then he won by a coalescent vote which is completely legal, and now we're trying to overthrow him. It feels like we're the bad guys, Tommy."

"What do you mean?" You pressed, standing to your feet.

Wilbur cringed at his own nonsensical rambling, facing away from the both of you. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, stumbling over his words, before he finally turned to face the both of you. "Am I..." He gestured to himself, "am I the villain...in this story?"

"Wilbur," Tommy's tone was cautious. "Wilbur what are you letting on?"

Wilbur looked to you again, and you shook your head. "You should tell him." You urged quietly, "it's time he knew."

Wilbur's gaze switched between you and Tommy, before he let out a breath of defeat. "Tommy, I have a plan." He admitted carefully, placing his hands on Tommy's shoulders. "So you agree that we're both in the right, right?"

"I mean I'm always in the right, so..."

"You agree that we have nothing left to lose?"

"Uh...more-or-less...sure."

"Good, good..." Wilbur stepped back to grab a torch and a spare match, before striking the match against the ravine walls and lighting the torch. He smiled, waving the fire around as he threw his arms out. "Then I say," he turned and opened a chest, revealing countless stacks of T.N.T. "That we blow that motherfucker to smithereens."

Tommy stood in silence for a few moments, shock taking over his features as he dropped his bow to the ground. It clattered against the stone and echoed out into the cave systems. "No." He chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head, "No. Wilbur, listen, I'm not--"

"Just 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 about it, Tommy! Everyone's against us! Quackity. Dream. Niki. Even..." His voice cracked, "...even Fundy."

"Wilbur, just listen to yourself; you're being a moron!"

"No, Tommy, you listen! If we can't have Manberg, no one, and I mean 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 can have Manberg!"

"Wilbur!"

The brunet froze, and turned to face you as your voice followed his own--echoing endlessly out into the ravine. 

"You're being way too fucking loud," you said, rubbing your cold arms to hide your shaking hands. "Do you 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 us to get caught?"

You glared at him, frustration filling your veins as you stood your ground. 

Wilbur turned to Tommy, awaiting his answer.

"I..." Tommy's gaze switched between you and his older counterpart. He swallowed, and rubbed his face against his sleeve before grabbing the torch from Wilbur and storming off. "I need some fucking air." He said, before flying up the staircase and outside.

You turned to Wilbur, who looked back up at you in bewilderment. Like he was in shock by his own actions.

"You've changed, Wilbur." You said with a shake of your head. A sigh left you as you picked up your sword, deciding to go and busy yourself by slashing some monsters outside. "You've changed."

You didn't spare him a second glance as you began to ascend the staircase.

···

A year ago you never expected meeting a strange man in a smiling mask would lead you to become an espionage infiltrating some spur-of-the-moment festival, much less to be crashing with the very same group you made a pact with yourself never to see again.

To Schlatt, you were just someone he himself invited to prevent further conflict from happening. "A display of peace," as he put it in the letter. He promised that for twenty-four hours you could walk the grounds of Manberg without the threat of being arrested again.

You snorted to yourself as you read it. Looks like the president had developed a sort-of soft spot for you.

You weren't sure if he was lying or not, but you supposed the constant threat of Dream demolishing the country on account of your execution was enough to scare the president into keeping his promise.

"𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵." Wilbur's voice repeated in your head as your hand brushed against the sword hidden beneath the spare cloak he had given you. "𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Whatever happened; you decided you couldn't let Wilbur blow up Manberg. He was acting out of disparity; a final anguished grab for control before he lost what he had worked so hard for. Before he lost his mind.

It sort-of reminded you of how you met him, in a way. When Dream asked you to finally end him once and for all you came up to his little caravan; your bow glimmering with fire aspect as you aimed an arrow directly at his forehead. You were so close...he just had to move a little to the left...

Until Tommy accidentally threw an ice-enforced snowball directly at the back of your head, making you tumble out into the open and completely blow your cover. The incident was nothing short of embarrassing, given your status.

He took you in after that, oblivious to your plans. And during that time you found yourself growing attached.

Wilbur reminded you that, in the grand scheme of things; Dream had no power over anyone or their happiness. That you were free to live how you wanted, choose your own battles; choose your own happiness. He showed you what true freedom felt like, running from prison and scamming people to all your heart's content.

Until Dream attacked, under the impression that Wilbur had slayed you. And you acted out of panic. Petrified of what Dream might do to you if you were caught crashing with the enemy. That led to literal and metaphorical walls being built, and to you cutting yourself off from the rest of the world.

You owed Wilbur everything for forgiving you and taking you in a second time; and now you were betraying him again. 

You cursed quietly to yourself as the city came into view, decorated with all kinds of colorful festive materials and the late-autumn leaves that fell over the wooded area like a blanket. The center of the city was spotted with a plethora of games, and even the White house appeared to be decked out with balloons--marking the spot where Tubbo would give his speech.

People ran around, not paying you much mind as they passed--likely getting a head start on all the fun or taking care of some last-minute tasks. You spotted Fundy and Niki talking near the bakery, stealing glances at you as you admired all the decorating work likely done by Tubbo.

You smiled sheepishly, waving. They didn't wave back.

The loud feedback of a microphone could be heard from somewhere behind you, followed by Schlatt's voice testing it and clearing his throat. A strong uproar of cheering could be heard after his introduction, muffled by the distance from where you were to the stage. People dropped what they were doing to rush over and take their seats, and you blended in with the crowd momentarily.

Carefully, you glanced around, before stepping to the side and around the corner of a building--successfully hidden in the shadows.

Shit.

You needed to work fast.

You carried your sword between your teeth as you fished around your satchel for an arrow, before also pulling out some rope.

In a quick, practiced motion you tied a knot around the hooked arrow and loaded it into your bow--aiming it to the top of the building.

You shot the arrow, and it arched satisfyingly before landing on the roof. With one quick tug--it was hooked securely on the edge. You took a breath before testing it, grabbing the rope and making extra sure it could hold your weight before you began to climb. Quickly scaling the building within a few moments.

Keeping low to avoid being seen, you dashed across the building and jumped blindly onto the hill next to it. Your heart beat fast in your chest as you slid a few inches before you grabbed a hold of a tree root--causing your legs to dangle.

"Uh...good afternoon ladies and gentlemen! I'm actually too short to reach the microphone so it doesn't work quite like Schlatt but uh," Tubbo's voice echoed throughout the area as he began his speech. "I suppose this'll work fine...."

You let out a breath, before pulling yourself up onto the hill with a grunt. You dusted yourself off before pressing forwards, fishing around your pocket as you pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. Tubbo's speech became more and more incomprehensible as the distance separating you from Manberg increased, and you took the advantage to run as fast as your legs could carry you through the grass before you slid to a halt beside the hill.

You double-checked the map. Yes. This was it.

The wooden door was disguised by a haphazard pile of dirt and brush; and it was easily pulled aside to reveal a small entrance. You let out a breath as you shoved Wilbur's map back into your pocket and pulled the door open.

Dust sprayed at you as the door smacked open with a few tugs, and you ducked inside the hollowed-out area. You coughed, waving the dust out of your face as you eyes adjusted to the lack of light--and what was a plain stone room became much more off-putting as you glanced over the writing on the walls.

"Hi."

You yelped as you jumped, and stars exploded in your vision as you hit your head off the roof of the small room. You seethed through your teeth and backed out of the room with an angry, "sonofabitch!"

A laugh irrupted from the disembodied voice, promptly smacking you twice as hard with a wall of deja vu. "Ouch. My bad. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

You backtracked fully out of the room and blinked the pain from your eyes, glancing around you before your eyes landed above the door. Your face fell. 

Dream tilted his head, the hood of his green cloak fell slightly over the pinprick eyes of his mask. He was kneeling over the entrance, watching in amusement as your brain promptly did a factory reset.

"You..." You swallowed heavily, "what are you doing here?"

"Today was the day I was supposed to have a meeting with Schlatt regarding your kidnapping." He shrugged, using air quotes, "looks like the old man forgot. That's fine, though, considering it looks as if you've done the deed for me."

"You know I'd love to go back with you but..." You clicked your tongue as you ducked back into the room, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm a little busy here."

Dream hummed in understanding, hanging upside down to look into the room as well. "Backstabbing the president again? I've taught you well."

You were only half listening as you sighed and traced your fingers across the words carved into the walls--your heart dropped slightly as you recognized Wilbur's handwriting. You turned and grabbed the button, ripping it from the wires that held it in place before shoving it into your pocket. Mission complete. "That depends."

"Why's that?"

You turned to Dream as the wires sparkled in the wall, the light bounced eerily off his mask in the process. A breeze blew past the opening of the hole, stirring the dark green cloak that fell around his figure and revealing the purple sparkle of an enchanted netherite chest plate.

You hummed, grabbing at the handle of your sword, "because I'm not entirely sure who's side you're on here, Dream."

Dream was silent for a moment, before a chuckle left his mouth--quickly followed by his trademark wheezy laugh as he threw his head back. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you waited for him to recover. 

"Sorry, it's--it's just kind of hard to take you seriously when you're threatening me with 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 sword, but maybe this will answer your question..."

He drew out a netherite sword identical to your own and pointed it towards you threateningly. 

"Hand over the button, if you know what's good for you."

You gritted your teeth, cursing quietly as you thumbed the button further into the pocket of your utility belt. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest as you stood your ground, standing up straighter as you puffed your chest out.

"We're on the same side here, may I remind you." Dream's voice was low as he dipped his head in warning. "We both want L'manberg. 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 wants L'manberg. But I'm afraid I have a deal to uphold, and I can't let you kill Schlatt."

"I'm not trading sides, idiot." You spat, "Wilbur is not in the right head space to be making any plans right now. Whatever deal he made with you...I'm going to put a stop to it. I want Schlatt dead, not a country full of innocents."

"Oh, I'm not talking about the deal with Wilbur," Dream chuckled. "You see, Schlatt has something I want. And in order to get it, he can't die. Not yet; anyway."

Your heart sank.

"You're shaking." Dream observed, and adjusted his hold on his weapon as he studied you, mask lifting slightly as his smile grew, "what? Has a few weeks of prison made you soft?"

"Why don't you come find out, dickshit."

With that, Dream lounged forwards, driving his blade into the wall as you leaped out of view and kicked him square in the chest--sending him back against the stone. Your foot irrupted in pain as his thorns enchantment tore through your boot, and he took the chance to trip you and stomp his foot onto your chest--knocking the air from your lungs.

"You know I don't want to hurt you," he said as you coughed and sputtered, leaning down to get face-to-face with you. "But you're making me do this the hard way. You're making a mistake by disob--"

You spit on his mask, causing him to recoil in shock before you took your opening and landed a hard punch across his face--blood spattered across the wall next to to you as a sickening crack clicked against your fist and he stumbled back against the wall. 

"FUCK!" He exclaimed, hands coming up to reach under his scuffed mask. You grunted as you lounged forwards and tackled him, sending you both tumbling out of the entrance and into the grass.

You grabbed fistfuls of his cloak, pinning him with your legs as you pressed your sword to his exposed neck.

"Enough..." You huffed as you pressed it deep enough to draw a little line of blood. "...of your mind games."

Dream's voice was nasally as he tried to pry the sword away from his neck, "I wouldn't waste your time dicking around over a button, if I were you." He said, his voice nasally as he turned his head to spit blood into the grass.

"Yeah?" You raised an eyebrow, edging the sword closer. "Then give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your life right now."

Dream smiled again, his mask hiked up just below his nose to reveal teeth, red-stained from the blood that flowed from his nostrils.

"Because then we would miss the execution."

You blinked, "the execution?"

"Then again, I don't see why you would care either way." He attempted a small shrug. "After all...you don't do friends anymore, do you?"

Your eyes widened in realization.

You shot up and erupted into a dead sprint, forcing your legs to go as fast as they could carry you as you climbed back up over the hill and landed on the building again. Your gaze whipped around before it landed on a neighboring building, and you leaped over to it--breaking inside.

"Wilbur!"

You heard a shout of your first name in reply, and you sprinted towards the sound just in time to see Wilbur jump down from a hole in the roof. He rushed forwards as you ran to him, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

"Where the hell were you?!" He onced you over, terrified by your frantic appearance. "I told you to meet me up here, you missed the whole speech!"

"Wilbur it's--" You stumbled forwards, relying on Wilbur for balance, "it's Schlatt--...Tubbo's in danger, I can't--"

"Wait, Schlatt?" Tubbo's voice chuckled nervously and you scrambled to get a look. 

Your face paled. Tubbo was enclosed in a cage that encased all of Schlatt's throne, and his gaze flickered up to your place in the building, pleading for help as he stared up at you before Schlatt stepped in the way--blocking your view.

"Tubbo...I'll cut to the fuckin' chase, alright?" Schlatt's voice from the stage held anger that was just barely being kept under control as he stepped away from the enclosure--nostrils flaring. "It really sucks for me to say this in front of everybody, I mean it's kind-of awkward but...I know what you've been up to."

"What..what have I been up to?"

"'What have I been up to' he says!" Schlatt busted out into a fit of laughter, gesturing to him with his hand. "You were 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨! With the idiots...the 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 that we kicked out of this country weeks ago! I bet you that fucking assassin is around here somewhere too, right? I should have known better than to put my trust into one of Dream's little pawns."

You seethed in anger, your hand flew to your satchel and pulled out an arrow destined for this exact situation. You heard Tommy say your name, attempting to snap you out of your tunnel vision--but neither of them stopped you as you loaded the bow and pulled the string back. "Get ready."

"For what?" Tommy asked, his voice hushed.

"You're going to run out and get Tubbo after I put a fucking end to this. On my mark."

Schlatt sighed, and squeezed the bridge of his nose before facing the petrified teenager at his side again, "you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?"

Tubbo's response came small and innocent, "...no?"

Schlatt smiled wickedly, before gesturing to the audience, "hey uh...hey Technoblade did you wanna come on up here?"

You watched as someone in a red cloak rose from the crowd.

The shimmer of Technoblade's crown slid into view, reflecting the light of the sunset as he shifted uncomfortably from being put in the spotlight. The glimmer of enchanted armor beneath his cloak sparkled in the steadily setting sun. You watched as he hesitated, and sent an unsure glance in your direction.

You watched in silence as the stranger's gaze flickered with panic, and he made his way up onto the podium.

"He doesn't know Techno is on our side," Wilbur whispered against your ear. "He wouldn't kill Tubbo."

"Uh," Technoblade chuckled nervously as he was nudged to the center of the stage by Quackity. "What's goin' on here?"

"Technoblade, if you would be so kind..." Schlatt smiled, crossing his arms. "Take care of him."

"You want..." Techno's gaze switched between him and Tubbo, almost in shock. He gestured vaguely towards Tubbo with his hand. "You want me to..."

"I want you to kill him!" Schlatt demanded, "right now! On this fucking stage!"

Techno took a step back, lifting his hands up defensively, "listen, Schlatt, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Technoblade." Schlatt hissed, stepping forwards. "I want you to 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮."

Techno stood still for a few moments, and the silence was suffocating. His ear twitched, and with a slow movement, he pulled a loaded crossbow out from under his cape.

"Tubbo," Techno began with a deep breath as he drew the cord of the crossbow back, the rocket inside it igniting due to some complicated enchantment. "I'm sorry."

"NO!" The arrow slipped from your fingers before you could stop it, and you watched as things collapsed like dominos.

Technoblade ducked to avoid the impact of the arrow, which hit Schlatt in the leg and sent him tumbling backwards with a loud curse. Fireworks irrupted from Technoblade's bow just as you leaped from the building, Wilbur and Tommy following suit. People screamed, lights flashed, explosions made your eyes water.

You hit the ground with a loud grunt, somersaulting forwards and unsheathing your sword from your side. Tommy and Wilbur joined you as you rushed into the crowd, slashing left and right as the blinding lights and deafening blasts of fireworks exploded quite literally, inches from your form.

Technoblade's loud laugh could barely be heard over the sound of the chaos, but you clenched your teeth and forced yourself not to go after him as you kicked and thrashed your way up onto the stage, fireworks continued to explode into the city.

"Tubbo?!" You yelled, "Tubbo!"

"TOMMY RAN THAT WAY!"

"TOMMY'S HERE?!"

"KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!!!"

The fighting and explosions outside dulled into background noise as you searched desperately for any sign of the teenager in question--you yelled his name through the cloth of your cloak as you attempted to keep the smoke out of your lungs.

The entire stage was aflame, thanks to Technoblade's fireworks.

"Tubbo!" You shouted one last time, stumbling out into the grass outside as a coughing fit overcame you. "Shit..."

"Over here!"

You perked up suddenly, your eyes watering from the smoke as you searched desperately around for the source of the voice.

Finally, you caught it. A figure stumbled out from the rubble--fox ears perked and alert before a face turned to look at you.

You blinked, "Fundy?"

"We've got the kid out and away from all the chaos. I-I know we're on opposite side, but...I have something to show you guys. Can you walk?"

You scrambled back to your feet and stumbled over to the fox-hybrid, who quickly caught you before you fell again. "Where's Tubbo?"

"With Niki." Fundy concluded, "how far away is your base? We can take you there."

You let out a deep sigh of relief, despite Fundy technically being an enemy. Tubbo was safe, and it didn't matter why or how or who saved him.

Besides, if he really wanted to fuck with Wilbur's plans, he would have done away with you already.

"Back there." You said, pointing vaguely, "further in the woods. Try any shit, Fundy, and I'll kill you myself."

The fox nodded with a humorless chuckle, "duly noted."


	4. Scapegoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out a sword in the arm doesn't leave a very good first impression

It was well into the night by the time you were done tending to Tubbo's wounds.

You sighed, wiping the back of your bloody hand across your forehead as you left the room he was resting in. Exhaustion was quickly replacing the burn of adrenaline in your chest, causing your work to start to get sloppy. You still had your own injuries to treat, but those could wait until later--considering you used up the last of Wilbur's supplies and Techno only left you with a sorry amount of regen potions. Which still were subpar, but got the job done.

You let out a breath, letting your heavy arms fall to your sides.

Fuck.

There was only so much mom friend in you, and you had a bad feeling that this was only the beginning of the battle to come. You had no doubt in your mind that Schlatt was working on a plan right that minute.

There was finally hope, though, because his own country was starting to turn against him.

The faint sound of arguing could be heard outside the walls of the room, echoing throughout the ravine endlessly into the night. The combined, accusing voices of Technoblade, Tommy, and Wilbur threw the blame around as to who's fault this all was.

You only caught bits and pieces of what they were saying. They both insisted Technoblade was the traitor, whilst Technoblade insisted that he had no other choice in what he did at the festival.

You'd find the piglin's overwhelmed stuttering and flailing for an excuse humorous if you weren't on the brink of another fucking battle.

Your mind was too occupied with processing everything that happened to side with anyone, and you found your hands were still shaking even as you were putting first-aid away.

You needed to sit down.

The flicker of a lantern filled the room with warm light as you collapsed into a chair, carefully removing the fingerless gloves and your cloak.

You hissed as your fingers brushed against a sizable gash across your shoulder--already nearly scabbed over. But other than scuffed hands and knees, that was the worst of your injuries.

You made a mental note to improve upon your close-range fighting at a later date.

A gentle knock could be heard at the door that almost made you jump as you were ripped from your distracted thoughts. You blinked, and reached over to wipe the blood off your hands and face before muttering a quiet, "come in."

Fundy poked his head through the door, glancing around for a moment before spotting you at the end of the room. "Is now a good time?"

You shrugged, averting your gaze, "I just finished treating his wounds."

Fundy swallowed heavily before stepping inside, closely followed by the nervous figure of Niki. 

You never spoke with either of the two that had entered the room. You vaguely knew that they both had close relations with Wilbur, due to Schlatt confessing he was wary of both of them and fuzzy memories of having hits on both of them at one point.

You took a breath, steadying yourself enough not to lose your composure. You could take your frustration out later, right now you had to focus.

"How's he doing?" Niki asked quietly.

"He'll survive," you shrugged, scratching the back of your neck, "Technoblade didn't hit him directly, and I think that's what saved his life."

_"You_ saved his life," Fundy corrected. "Technoblade doesn't hold back. If you hadn't shot that arrow, I doubt Tubbo would still be breathing."

"Speaking of the arrow..." you were grateful for Niki's quick change in subject when she finally spoke up, not wanting your brain to fester on that topic for too long. Again, you'd have time to freak out about it later. "What did you shoot him with?"

"A special poison I use on my arrows in case the first shot doesn't immediately kill them. It was a scrapped drug recipe Wilbur whipped up a while ago." You shrugged, "why?"

Niki pursed her lips, and shared a look with Fundy, who sighed heavily.

"He was denying any sort of treatment, of course." Fundy answered, with an annoyed roll of his eyes, "says it'll 'take more than some pussy shot to take me down.' I didn't get a chance to see the aftermath, though, because I had to find Tubbo. Quackity says he ain't looking to good."

"He's tearing this country to shreds," Niki said with a dejected sigh. "I...don't know who to side with anymore."

"Well, believe it or not I think Wilbur would be arguably worse for the country right now." You frowned, tapping your hand against the table in thought before redirecting your gaze up to Fundy, "does Wilbur know you're here?"

Fundy shook his head, "I can't face him yet. We came here for you."

"Why's that?"

Fundy didn't say anything. Instead, he flicked one red ear and dug through his satchel, pulling out a small leather journal. He tossed it onto the table in front of you with a slap.

You pulled the object towards you, raising an eyebrow as you untied the cord around it and flipped through the pages. You snorted, looking up at Fundy. "A diary? What are you, in middle school?"

"Flip to the fifteenth page."

You did as told, scanning over the scratchy handwriting as your face fell a little more with each word.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust us. For all you know we could just be spies, and you were probably planning on fucking us up the second we walked out that door, but, just--" Fundy sighed, running a hand down his face. "We were wrong in supporting Schlatt. He's...a damn pitiful excuse of a leader, if anything."

You scoffed, "he's showed up drunk to official business how many times now and you're just now realizing this?"

"Hey, hey, hey! You had the opportunity to escape _several times_ and never decided to until the last minute either, so...don't go shaming me." Fundy argued, crossing his arms. "But I just want you to know, whatever you want us to do; we'll do it. We'll do it for Pogtopia."

You looked back down at the journal in your hands, your mind spinning with thoughts. This all was too much. _Way_ too much.

What the hell did you do to get stuck in the middle of all this?

"I..." You forced the words from your mouth, swallowing heavily as you looked back up at Fundy. "It's up to Wilbur and Tommy. I'll talk to them, see what they think."

Both of the newcomers let out a breath. Niki's eyes shimmered with a contortment of emotions as she averted her gaze; and you knew you weren't the only one who was overwhelmed. "What are we gonna do?"

"We'll figure something out." You reassured her, forcing a smile. "Promise."

A moment of silence passed between the three of you as you went to put the first-aid back, making the growing argument outside become that much clearer. You cringed--getting far too tired of breaking up Tommy and Wilbur's quarrels.

They never used to fight this much. Ever.

You sighed, figuring you should probably step in and do something.

Fundy got the message, placing a hand on Niki's shoulder. "I'd help you out with that, but...y'know."

"It's fine, really," you waved him off. "I get it. It must be hard, seeing him like this."

Niki nodded, "you have no idea."

"We're gonna head out," Fundy sent a nod in your direction, eager to leave that hellhole of a base as he opened the door next to him. "Keep the journal, show it to Wilbur when you get the chance." He turned to you one last time, his face serious. "I'll see you on the battle field."

You nodded at both of them, "good luck. You know where to find me."

They left without another word, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You pressed your hands against the table and took a few breaths, steadying yourself before you stepped out of the room as well. Your feet dragged across the floor as you walked, the voices of Wilbur, Tommy, and Technoblade getting all the more apparent. 

You swallowed heavily, turned the corner...

and stopped in your tracks.

Everyone froze, and their gazes snapped towards you in surprise at your sudden appearance.

Tommy was sat on the floor against the wall, panting heavily with blood running down his nose and over his lips. Tears stained his face--making his bright red, swollen eye that much more noticeable.

Technoblade stood hovering over him, bloody fists clenched as he turned to face you.

Your hair rose on the back of your neck as you put the pieces together in your mind, and a red hot rage overcame you. Seeping up your spine and nearly blinding you to your own thoughts. In the blink of an eye, you had your sword drawn and you sprinted at Technoblade with a yell.

"YOU BASTARD!"

You didn't give him time to explain as you leaped forward, and he successfully dodged under your first attack before you quickly swung around and charged at him again.

Netherite punctured Netherite with an earsplitting ring as your sword lodged in Technoblade's wristguard. He grunted, his fist clenched as he slid back a few inches at the impact--the sword now lodged in his arm.

You seethed with rage, words stuck in your throat as you clenched the sword and tried to force it further into his arm. Wilbur said your name, grabbing your shoulder to try and pry you away.

Technoblade's red gaze never left your own as you stared him down, and he hissed under his breath as blood started to drip to the floor from his wound. "You see what I mean, Tommy?" He said through his teeth, "this is--this is exactly what I mean! Acting out in wild accusations before you can even give me the chance to explain myself."

"You better back the fuck away from Tommy this instant before I slice that look right off that face of your's." You hissed back, attempting to press the sword further into his flesh. "You've hurt quite enough of us today already, traitor."

"I think you've forgotten exactly who you're talkin' too." Technoblade's eyes narrowed, "Tommy threw the first punch. You're all just too quick to act out of rage to actually _think_ about who the real enemy is here. I've provided you all with the materials you need to take down Schlatt! I made the armor you're all wearing! _Me!_ Why would I do that if I was gonna turn against you?" He growled defensively, turning to you again, "so I suggest you quit tryna impale me before things get ugly. I never _i_ _ntended_ to hurt Tubbo. That's the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you."

The room was silent for a moment, and your vision began to darken around the edges. Your grip on the sword loosened as the room began to swim around you.

Technoblade slowly slipped his arm from the weapon, hiding the wound back under his cloak as the sword clattered noisily to the ground. You stumbled backwards haphazardly. The last thing you saw before your vision faded black was Tommy scrambling to his feet and reaching out to catch you.

Wilbur said your name, panic edging at his voice as he shook your shoulder.

Exhaustion finally overcame you, and you fainted.

···

Wilbur's torch flickered as he stepped through the underbrush; trying to be as quick as possible while still staying quiet. The buzz of crickets out for one of the very last snowless days of the year just barely drowned out the distant ambiance of monsters out in the night--no doubt searching for blood.

Wilbur didn't care, though. He didn't even bring any armor. There was only one thing on his mind that left him in a shocked haze as he trekked back to Pogtopia from the opposite end of Manberg.

The button was gone. He didn't know how, or who it could have been. But there _was*_ one thing he knew for certain.

There was a traitor in Pogtopia.

And he was going to find out who it was.

His fists were clenched as he reached the base of the hill, and he let out a tired sigh as he moved the vines aside--eager to get back to his work and try and figure out a plan for the inevitable battle that would determine the future of Manberg.

No-- _L'manberg_.

He ran a hand down his face. Christ, this lack of sleep was really starting to get to him.

A sigh left his mouth as he moved to open the door, yanking it open with a swift movement.

"Wilbur?"

The voice made him nearly jump, and he looked up on the hill to see a face staring back down at him. You tilted your head, your hair falling over your face as you hung upside-down to face him.

"Oh." He let out a breath, "You scared me for a second. What are--what are you still doing up?"

You sighed, pulling yourself back upright but letting your legs dangle in view. "Can't sleep."

Wilbur's grip on the doorknob loosened. He _really_ needed to get back to work, but...

...when was the last time you and him had really, truly talked?

During the revolution?

_Before_ the revolution?

He frowned at the thought, and at his own obvious disregard for your feelings. Damn it. You only just broke out of prison a few weeks ago, didn't you? Wilbur could only imagine the amount of stress was eating away at you.

And he probably wasn't helping, either.

His mind screamed at him for doing it, but he closed the door again and climbed up beside you, quickly extinguishing his torch to reveal the white splatters of stars above. The smell of the smoke was comforting--like blowing out a candle.

You both just sat there for a few moments, in silence. Just enjoying each other's company before everything went completely batshit come the next few days. And for a moment--for the first time in weeks, Wilbur felt a sense of clarity. His raging thoughts finally quieted, and he relaxed.

"The button's gone." He said, surprisingly nonchalantly. "No one but the people living here know where it is...which means there's a traitor in our midst."

"So I've heard." You said, without any further discussion. You pulled your legs up to your chest, rubbing the cold from your arms.

Wilbur blinked at you, and how your response almost seemed...passive aggressive? 

He knew your opinions on government and authority in general were pretty complicated, anyone in their right mind could figure out that much. But he couldn't seem to pinpoint why you wanted Schlatt dead to begin with.

You didn't live in L'manberg, nor did you ever contribute much of anything to its Independence. In fact, you fought completely against it, whether it was your decision to or not.

So what _were_ your motives?

He shoved his suspicious thoughts aside for a later date.

Instead, he let out a breath, and pulled the sleeves of his trench coat off his shoulders. You watched him in careful curiosity as he slid the fabric off--revealing the all-too-familiar faded yellow sweater underneath. Your eyes widened in surprise as he draped it over your shoulders.

"How's Tubbo doing?" He asked before you could question the gesture, pulling out his cigarettes and quickly lighting one in his mouth, taking comfort in the smoke that filled his lungs.

"Fine," you nodded. "He woke up a few hours ago when Tommy was with him, he seems all there. No new brain damage or anything."

Wilbur snorted.

"The healing potions you got from Techno are really helping, he should be good as new by the time any conflict breaks out." You shrugged, pulling the warm coat further over your shoulders. "He's lucky to have survived, honestly."

"Good, good." He blew the smoke out into the air, and offered you one; to which you declined. He shrugged and shoved them back into his pockets.

"You..." He cleared his throat, hoping to strike up a new conversation. "How are you doing? With all of this, I mean."

"About as well as I can." You answered honestly, "it's just...it's a lot...you know?"

Wilbur hummed, but didn't say anything further for a few moments. He relished in the quiet, with your warmth at his side. Nothing was out to get him. Everyone he cared about was safe, sleeping peacefully. 

The feeling was nice.

As he zoned out, he felt you timidly rest your head against his shoulder. He nearly jumped and flinched away, but, he slowly accepted the gesture.

"Are you still going to do it?" You asked carefully, "blow up L'manberg, I mean."

Wilbur's expression fell again at the thought. He itched to get back to work once more, but quickly shut those thoughts down again. He thought for a second, before answering with a heavy sigh. "Have you ever heard of Chekhov's gun?"

You looked at him, confused. "No, I...don't believe I have."

Wilbur fidgeted with his lighter, flicking it on and off carelessly between his fingers as he talked, "it's a principal that states that in literature, false promises should not be made. They only add unnecessary elements to the plot that convolute the storyline." He looked up to the sky again, "L'manberg has caused nothing but unnecessary death and conflict since the day I built those walls; and as long as it resides there and Dream is alive, it won't stop. So, yes, I am going to blow up L'manberg." He said, "I have too."

You frowned, and the both of you sat in silence for a moment.

"Dream said something to me a while back." You stated. "I suppose it stuck with me a little more than I'd like to admit. Then again, a lot of the things he says now-a-days does."

Wilbur stayed silent as he listened to your ramblings, staring up at the stars above.

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow..." You continued, your speech slurring as you started to doze off. "But I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for betraying you all back then. And thank you for trusting me again, I would have completely understood if you didn't."

Wilbur simply looked at you, blinking as he processed your words.

You let out a bit of a laugh, running your hands down your face. "Fuck, listen to me. I'm so tired." You sighed, standing to your feet and shrugging off the coat. You offered it back to him, to which he refused.

"Keep it," he said. "That scuffed cloak won't help keep you very warm when the months get colder."

"Oh." You blinked with surprise, glancing down at the trench coat. You felt weird taking something after he had already given you so much. "You sure?"

He snorted, "just take it. I have like, five others."

You rolled your eyes and jumped back off the hill, landing on your feet on the ground below. "Well...I'm going to go try and sleep again." You said, sending him a small, final smile.

"Wait, uh, before--before you go." He said, just before your finger brushed against the door. You looked back up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"You were already forgiven when you came back, you know. Dream's a tricky bastard." Wilbur told you, letting out a breath. "And...you know what? I was never close to my actual family, but...you, Tommy--Hell, even Tubbo...you guys were the best things to ever happen to me. Like the siblings I never had."

Wilbur managed a small smile; but it was different this time. Not the unhinged, unsettling one he sported when he talked about his plans--not the one that made his eyes spark and your fists involuntarily clench.

Just...just Wilbur's smile. 

"I know you would never betray us like that willingly. It's okay." He nodded to you. "You're forgiven."

"Yeah," shaking hands came up to grasp the doorknob again as you opened it quietly. "Yeah...I---thank you, Wilbur, really. Goodnight."

"G'night."

If only he knew it was anything but okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating early again in order to procrastinate on school work
> 
> also bonus points to whoever can guess which ghibli movie i watched before writing this bit lmao


	5. The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stress dreams can be funny things

* * *

You opened your eyes to find yourself on a beach. 

The wind blew gently through your wet hair and water-logged armor, the smell of the ocean heavy in the air as the cold wind whipped at your face. Your eyes were closed, and you took a deep breath in--relishing the fresh air you didn't usually get back home.

Your mouth was dry from the salt water and your body freezing. The feeling of wet sand against your bare feet was a firm reminder of how achy your body was from over-exertion--and your breathing was still shaky and labored due to spending so much time underwater.

The sound of your name made your heavy eyelids open lazily, revealing the bright orange sunset and the stark contrast of the horizon across it. Sea animals and nearby monsters added to the dark ambience of the shore, causing a rather cathargic kind of calm to wash over you.

The voice said your name a final time, and you finally snapped fully awake and back to reality. You rubbed your eyes with your sand-caked hands and turned to the owner of the familiar voice.

Dream sat a little ways away from you, stripped of his armor and usual battered green cloak that rested beside the fire along with his combat boots. His sandy-brown hair was damp and fell over his forever-masked face as he held his freezing hands over the fire.

"Quit dozing off standing up." He remarked, "it's creepy."

You blinked at him, and turned back to the ocean. You let out a lengthy sigh before holding your arms out and letting yourself fall backwards against the sand; rather painfully. "I do what I want."

"Not my fault you insisted you could go without waterbreathing." He chuckled, sitting back once the fire started to grow. "You know I could just get you a trident, right? Save you some trauma?"

"Would you quit acting like you care about me?" You snapped, "I know you're only sticking around because of that contract. I'm just a weapon to you."

He hummed, "A valuable weapon."

"Yeah, like you can't shit out netherite ingots like a fucking pez despenser."

He barked a laugh that echoed through the forests and across the empty landscape. "Oh common, I'm not all _that_ bad."

You frowned at the sky, blinking up at the same stars you always took comfort in whenever things got rough. A question rooted up from the depths of your mind as the some-what playful arguing came to a close. 

"You burned everything back there." You wondered aloud. "The house, our pets, our items...everything. Like you wanted no trace of us living there."

"That I did."

"Why?"

Dream was silent for a little while, and the sound of the fire snapping and crackling filled the heavy silence. Crickets chirped noisily from the treeline, and the distant crunching of monsters wading through the thick underbrush was very prominent.

"Because attachment is weakness," he answered. "A way for people to control you. If we sever ourselves from it; we're free. People can't threaten you if you have nothing to loose. And if that's what it takes for me to rule this land again, then so be it. I can't let Tommy or Wilbur get ahold of anything of mine worth value."

You sat up, turning to face him for the first time that night. "Then why the hell keep me around if I'm just another loose end?"

"Well, that answer is obvious." He didn't look at you. He kept his gaze steady as he threw another log in the fire, "it's the same reason why despite you knowing the risks, you couldn't bring yourself to kill Wilbur."

So he did care about you.

You blinked in shock, your fists tightening around the loose sand that crumbled under your grip. For some unknown reason; anger flooded your veins at that realization. He cared about you, yet he wouldn't let you be happy? He wouldn't let you run off and carry on with your life? Remain neutral in this endless spiral of war, death, and betrayal just like you always meant to?

"Stop it with the mind tricks, Dream." You pushed yourself to your feet, your facial expression showing your change in emotion. "I want you to let me go."

He narrowed his eyes at you, all lightheartness gone from his voice. "After all that and you _still_ don't understand?"

"You're doing it again!" You growled, "you're messing with my head!"

_"You_ stabbed me in the back! _I'm_ telling you the truth!"

"I was undercover." You lied, "waiting for the right moment. I _would have_ killed Wilbur if I was in the right headspace."

He sighed heavily, and shook his head. "Yeah, right. Sure you would have."

You stayed like that for a moment. You were shivering, sure, but you wouldn't go near him. You could get through the night cold--you didn't need him to survive. You could make your own fire.

You hands curled into fists at your sides as you took in a breath.

Spite.

You would stay alive purely out of spite.

With some newfound burst of energy, you marched towards him. You stomped over to your side of the fire and grabbed your scuffed stone axe, held together by mud and some spare strips of bamboo. You didn't spare Dream even so much as a glance as you trudged your way through the sand to the treeline.

"Where are you going?"

"To find food," you answered. "And fresh water."

"There's monsters out there."

"I can fight them off."

"With that dingy axe? You don't even have your bow."

"I'll be fine."

"You won't have Wilbur to protect you."

You froze at his statement, just barely within the limits of the dense jungle before you. Your heart thudded with that realization in your chest, and your hold on your axe tightened.

Sure, you knew that already. It was a simple fact. After Dream turned up and threatened to kill Wilbur himself you had panicked, and shot him in the shoulder. Not a lethal spot--but just close enough to his heart for Dream to temporarily find it convincing.

But Wilbur now thought you were a traitor.

You slowly turned to face Dream, who was now standing a few feet away from you. His mask was almost glowing in the low light--the smile mocking you from where he stood. The green cloak that concealed most of his body fluttered around the wind, revealing the fully-enchanted netherite sword in his hands.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance as the last of the light in the sky dimmed with the approaching clouds. Ice cold rain began to fall steadily--quickly soaking skin that was just beginning to dry.

"You do remember what happens here, right?" Dream tilted his head almost innocently.

You only looked at him. Every inch of your body wanted to attack and run, but you weren't sure you could muster up the energy to do so.

"Of course I do." You answered, looking down. "I've relived it enough times already. I say that I don't need me, that I'm capable of surviving on my own. And then--"

"--and then you run off and lose your first life to an Enderman, and I have to save you. Again." Dream stated, stepping forwards. "Everytime you appear here you try something different. Something small that strays just far enough away from the norm that, maybe, might aid you in getting away, or getting answers. Or waking up."

You stayed silent, not wanting to hear him talk but too scared to revolt.

"But it never works, does it? That axe isn't going to protect you from the inevitable. We both know this. So, that being said..." He took another step forwards, "...what's next in the script?"

You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat, and the panic that mixed in with it. Dream thrived off intimidating other people, making them feel small under his stare.

You met his gaze again, taking a breath. "You say that I'm nothing without you." You said, "that no matter how fast I run, or where I hide; you'll never leave me. That you're the only one I have left; you're the only friend I have."

"And then what do you say?"

"I say that it's not true." Your breathing sped up. "And...and I believe it...don't I?"

Dream stayed silent, but he had stepped even closer since you started talking. You looked up again to be met with his mask inches from your face, staring down at you.

"Why are you in my head? You never say these things in real life." You insisted, holding your ground. "Why do I keep coming back here? Why are you acting so..."

Dream stood upright again, his gaze never leaving your own. The sun disappeared over the horizon, covering you in a thick blanket of darkness. Thunder rumbled from somewhere unseen, rolling across the sky and over the sea.

"Because you are going to die," he said, rather matter-of-factly. "And I am going to watch."

Your legs moved before you had a chance to stop them. You dashed into the jungle--swiping blindly at leaves and branches and monsters as you raced to get as much distance between you and your pursuer as possible.

You could hear his laugh behind you, echoing out into the dark forest. Surrounding you entirely. Making your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with each sound.

Your foot got caught on a treeroot and you tripped with a yelp. You somersaulted forwards, over and over again through the underbrush as you fell down the hill--your axe slipped from your hands.

You stopped when you came to the bottom, hitting something smooth that knocked the breath from your lungs. 

You groaned, and pushed yourself upright again with heavy breaths, the wind knocked out of you, scrambling for your axe only to find it was nowhere within your vecinity. Your face paled as your gaze instead rested on the thing you hit against.

Your vision was bleary and dark around the edges, and your breathing still came fast and uncontrolled as your eyes came in contact with what looked to be someone in a suit, still tall enough to hover above you even in a kneeling position.

You swallowed, and looked up to meet a blank; heterochromic gaze. Red and green eyes completely blank of any human emotion, and you barely had a chance to scream before he reached out and grabbed you.

You jolted awake with a start, slapping the hand that had grabbed you and pushing yourself back up against a stone wall. Your breathing was in sharp, deep gasps as your eyes darted around the room.

Tommy stared back at you, confused and concerned as his blue eyes blinked at you owlishly. He said your name in concern, head tilted. "You good?"

Once your location registered, you relaxed against the wall--you ran a hand through your damp hair as you got your thoughts on order. "I'm alright." You nodded, taking a breath to collect yourself. "I'm alright. What are you doing awake?"

"Okay, then, well..." Tommy seethed through his teeth as he suddenly appeared nervous. "Listen, whatever you do, don't freak out, yeah? He's on our side, promise."

You deadpanned, sitting upright. "What did you do now?"

Tommy pursed his lips, before stepping to the side. Your brow immeadiately furrowed at the sight of the vaguely familiar person who stood before you, and redirected his gaze back to the scene before him.

"Uhh..." Quackity laughed nervously, running a hand over the back of his neck. Your eyes widened in shock as Schlatt's right hand man muttered out an unsure,

"...how's it hanging?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided fuck update schedules, this'll be updated every 4-6 days or when I'm bored lmao
> 
> but thank you for all the overwelming support so far!! <33 don't be shy to leave a comment if u want to, I love reading them and feedback/constructive criticism is always welcomed


	6. Ante Bellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm

About a week had passed since Quackity joined in on the chaos. Closely followed by a few other of his associates and citizens of L'manberg who had been constantly mistreated by Schlatt since the beginning. 

Things were happening fast--and soon Pogtopia was busy with activity as people scrambled to prepare for battle. Technoblade was in charge of weapons and supplies, you and Wilbur were in charge of strategizing, while Tommy and Tubbo kept an eye on Schlatt, Dream, and the rest of their men. Everyone else contributed where they could, aiding in whatever needed the most support at the moment.

And--considering Tommy was busy not only with the war against Schlatt, but also his own battles regarding the death of a pet--the last thing you expected was for him to drag you and Tubbo out for something so odd.

"You want to use my obsidian to block off a tree?" You questioned as Tommy pulled you along the inside of an underground tunnel.

"No," Tommy snorted in response. "I want you to watch our asses while _we_ use _your_ obsidian to block up the tree."

"What the hell is so important about the tree that we need to risk our lives for?"

Tubbo gasped, offended. "It was one of the original trees in L'manberg! You know, the one you tied a tire swing to that one time?"

Your eyebrows raised in realization. 

Man, that felt like forever ago.

"And from that one time when Wilbur hung upside down from it and nearly scared the living daylights out of us?" Tubbo piped up, his face--previously screwed up in worry--had relaxed into a soft smile at the memory. "And then he fell and you had to patch the bastard up?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Like you both don't fall out of trees on a regular basis."

"Aye, that's Tubbo's thing! I've got my water buckets."

"I don't fall _that_ often!"

"Sure you don't, man. Sure you don't."

You couldn't help a chuckle as you listened to the pair of teenagers squabble, landing platonic baps on each other's shoulders before they ran ahead--leaving you to your thoughts as you studied the area around you.

The tunnels were dark and quiet. Lit up only by the occasional torch against the oak wood walls that stretched as far as you could see--almost resembling that of an underground railroad with the raised bit functioning as a narrow path.

You hummed to yourself as you fidgeted with a bow--unable to get the lyrics of one of Wilbur's old campfire songs out of your head. You relished in the quiet calmness that fell over you as you balanced yourself on the edge of the path and absent-mindedly listened to Tommy's plan.

You felt bad for them. Since the start They both have been thrown into political matters due to Dream--and fought battles on their own with little to no help. And now, they didn't even have Wilbur to back them up. All they really had was eachother to rely on.

Which prompted your question as soon as the conversation fizzled into a comfortable silence. "How are you both holding up, during all of this?"

The question earned a shrug from both of the teenagers, which was more of an answer than you had expected to get if you were being honest.

"Meh," Tommy said nonchalantly. "Surviving, I guess. This is like the third war I've started, kind-of over it to be honest."

You couldn't help a snort. If there was one thing you and Tommy had in common; it was the humor coping mechanism. "Fair enough, I suppose. What about you, Tubbo?"

Tubbo was silent for a moment, the cheerful pep in his step faltering as he raised a still-bandaged hand to flex his burnt arms. A scar remained across his cheek--a permanent reminder of Technoblade's betrayal.

"...better, I think." Tubbo said, closing his fist as he looked up at you with a reassuring smile. "But don't worry about me. What matters is that I'm still here--thanks to you."

You sighed, and pulled Tubbo in for a quick side hug. Poor kid.

You all breached the surface in no time after navigating the tunnels--and rain pittered against your head and shoulders as you threw your guard back up and glanced around for any immediate danger.

Nothing. It would appear everyone was inside to get out of the mid-November sleet. It poured down over the buildings and blanketed the country in a grey hue--making the atmosphere thick with a cathartic kind of calm. Everything seemed frozen in time as you stepped up and into the grass and pulled Tubbo to his feet.

"Well this looks...depressing." You remarked, recalling the night of your escape vividly in your mind.

"It wasn't pissin' it so harrrr--hey! What kind of a fuckin' president doesn't even fill in his creeper holes?!"

Tubbo chuckled, jumping over the ditch in the ground littered with gunpowder, "an awful one, that's what."

"Ugh! I'll tell you what," Tommy squared his shoulders as he marched towards the only tree in the area. "As soon as I'm president, I bet you both my discs I'll get ten times the women this guy gets. My snapchat will be _popping_ I tell you."

"Niki's in thousands of dollars of dept and is probably wanted for tax evasion." You snorted, "I doubt he's on the good side of many women, period."

"Didn't him and Quackity have something for a little bit?"

"Honestly? Probably."

You tuned out of the conversation as you handed Tommy and Tubbo the proper tools for their job, and went on to stand guard beside the small oak tree. You kept one hand on your sword and the other clutching your bow as you scanned the horizon.

Now that you had gotten a better look at the tree--you did recognize it. It was small, with tons of small messages and jokes carved into the old bark. Some were concealed by the moss that was begining to take hold of the tree over the years, crawling from the roots to the branches above. Some rope was still left to decay on the branch of the tree where you and Eret had tied a wooden swing to it once.

Oh, shit. Eret.

You frowned at the thought of your old friend, wondering for a moment what exactly the royal could be up to. You spotted their castle on the horizon, peaking through the clouds dotted with bamboo and more trees.

What had happened between Eret and Wilbur remained a mystery to you. You knew from Tommy that they were pretty high on L'manberg's 'Do Not Interact' list, and that explosions were involved; but that was the most they were willing to talk about. Any time you brought it up to anyone they were quick to change the subject. Nevertheless, you made a mental note to visit their castle at a later date.

You had a lot of catching up to do.

A small bit of movement caught your eye beside a nearby building, and your heart jumped a little in your chest as you turned to study it. You squinted and leaned to the side to try and get a better look; just for nothing to be found.

Hm.

"You two almost done?" You shot over your shoulder in a hushed whisper--maybe, you were just paranoid.

"Just a minute!"

You frowned, and as you turned to look forwards again you saw the movement once more.

Okay, definitely not your imagination. You were being watched.

Knowing better than to go and investigate, you stayed fixed to your spot until Tommy and Tubbo had successfully blocked up the tree in obsidian. You hung back as they began to rush back towards the tunnel--chuckling and shoving eachother forwards as if they were just normal kids running after vandalizing a building.

In some ways, you supposed, they had.

"Hey! Common!" Tommy tugged at your sleeve as you stood fixated at the entrance, "Wilbur's waiting!"

You looked at Tommy, turned to look back at the tree, and then to Tommy again.

"I'm gonna go check something." You decided, tugging your hand free from Tommy's grasp. "I'll be right behind you, 'kay?"

"Oh...kay?" Tommy answered, dropping down into the tunnel. "Don't die!"

"You too!"

You waited until the footsteps in the tunnel faded to silence along with the teenagers' oddly cheerful banter; and your smile faded. A breeze blew past your face, foreshadowing the harsh winter to come with the cold that stung your skin. Slow, relaxed footsteps crunched against the leaves behind you, and you didn't bother to turn around.

Instead, you gazed across the lake that lapped at your feet as a familiar figure joined your side. You frowned as you heard the familiar clicking of a lighter and the distinct smell of cigarettes.

"Funny seeing you here." Schlatt said, "done babysitting?"

You didn't answer him for a long time as you stood there, and your hold on your sword's hilt tightened.

"Not babysitting." You replied fondly, "preparing for war."

"More like vandalizing public property--you're lucky we're understaffed or you would have been arrested by now."

"Awww," you clicked your tongue. "What, scared? Scwared your pwisoner is gonna assasinwate you?"

"Jesus--what the fuck?" Schlatt chuckled, punching your arm. "You've been hangin' around that Fundy guy too much."

You returned his chuckle, before you both settled into a heavy silence once more. The smile faded from your lips as you stared over the lake. You swore the water looked clearer months ago.

"You know...Wilbur's right."

Schlatt was silent as you continued to speak.

"This place isn't what it used to be. And it will never go back to what it used to be." You ranted, shoving your hands in your pockets. "It used to be a place of safety...of freedom. But now it's just, like, some sort of ticking time bomb that nobody knows how to deactivate."

"You're saying you actually _support_ that lunatic's cause?"

"No." You shook your head, "I believe that this place is a dark spot on this world's history, and that it should be removed as so. It's caused nothing but violence and chaos and death since it was founded...I see that now. I see that now because of Wilbur and you both. The people don't need to be killed--but I do agree that as long as this town still stands there will still be war."

Schlatt stayed silent, absorbing your words.

"When we're out there on that battle field, I don't care what happens." You explained, "You just keep your hands off those kids, you hear me?"

He hummed, blowing smoke out. It danced out into the cool air along with his breath. "We both know I can't make those promises."

"Sure, but I can make you live up to them."

Schlatt chuckled again. offering you a cigarette. "Is that a threat I hear?"

"Not a threat," you finally faced him, batting his hand away. "That's a promise."

You stared at eachother for a moment, and your heart stung a little in your chest. Goddamn it. You _really_ needed to work on how fast you got attached to people.

Schlatt looked like shit. Well, more so than usual. You could see the effects of your poison arrow on his skin--the paleness combined with the bags under his eyes and the warmth of a fever he seemed to radiate. You recalled vaguely how Quackity said he denied any sort of treatment; instead going on a rampage and tearing down part of the White House.

He really was just a pathetic old man.

You let out a breath, averted your gaze, and lifted a boot to step back into the tunnel.

"That offer still stands, you know."

And just like that, you stopped in your tracks again.

"I mean...if really all you want is to stay neutral and fuck around all you want, I can give you that. I can pardon you for your crimes, you can live in Manberg...I'll even rent you an apartment or something. For old times sake." He shifted his weight from one foot for another, "just...common, man. We're friends, right?"

He almost sounded desperate. He was already losing his own battle as people fled his side for Pogtopia--his own men slipping from his very fingertips. He was grasping for a companionship that didn't exist.

Despite yourself, you chuckled and stepped forwards into the tunnel, "I hope one day you choke on the shit you talk."

You expected him to lash out in curses, and chase you halfway to Pogtopia until you were both too exhausted from laughing to even remember why you were angry. You expected him to laugh, make fun of you, yell after you, just _something._

But J. Schlatt simply watched on in defeat as your footsteps faded to merely an echo throughout the winding tunnels, and he was alone once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter today, folks
> 
> wanted to squeeze some last minute Schlatt angst in before shit goes boom boom wow


	7. Ares's Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the battle of the 16th

Fundy and Niki's influence seemed to have spread throughout the country. People started joining Wilbur's cause--finally realizing all the destruction Schlatt was causing the more the weeks passed. Quackity joining seemed to be the turning point in the war, fed up with being mistreated by the president and constantly having to clean up after him.

And, finally, after everything--you were part of something meaningful. You weren't the one being hunted, albeit by bounty hunters or government officials.

And it felt goddamn amazing to finally be charging towards something instead of running, you had to admit. It felt...natural, and like you had finally achieved the goal you had been yearning for all this time. You had people to protect, people to fight alongside with, people who _didn't_ want you dead; despite having interfered with most of their lives within the area.

You had powerful armor on your back, your sword slid snug in it's sheath, your best potions secured to your belt and a shield on your arm. You felt just as powerful as said armor.

You looked yourself over in a mirror in Technoblade's secret base. The sound of people chanting and yelling and laughing before battle filled the atmosphere to the brim with pride. It was enough to make anyone's heart swell--even with a traitor in your midst and a still overall uneasiness.

You shrugged Wilbur's coat over your netherite armor, tucking the sleeves back into your wristguards and pulling your long-since grown-out hair back and away from your face. You checked your sword, your bow, your arrows, that your boots were tied and that everything was in order. 

And if you smiled and winked at yourself in the mirror before turning away and walking back to the main room, nobody had to know.

You looked fucking badass, after all.

"Good luck out there."

"Heyy, it's you! The general! Maybe we can actually make that official once we kill Schlatt!"

"Oh, shit, is that Wilbur's coat?"

"Hah! It totally is!"

You smiled and nodded to everyone in the base, laughing along with them and exchanging battle tips with the people around you as you finalized everything.

You caught sight of Wilbur standing awkwardly to the side while everyone scrambled for Technoblade's weapons and gear--trying to stick to the shadows as if if he tried hard enough he could disappear into the walls.

Niki approached him at one point, but it was nearly a matter of moments before she had run off again--sparing him a worried look before turning around the corner.

You sighed as he turned and approached you, and you nodded at him respectfully. "Wilbur."

He nodded back, his tone serious as he asked, "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course." 

He led you around the corner, away from the view of other people. The dark obsidian walls of the underground hideout occasionally dripped with the water above it, adding to the ambiance of people cheering and chatting away until the time of battle came.

"I have a gift for you," he dug through his pockets for a moment before pulling something out of his pocket. "But just so I'm not worried...how many lives do you have left?"

"Two." You answered, "why do you ask?"

"Here."

You held your hands out for Wilbur to drop something into your gloved fist. It was small, and attached to a dainty chain that glinted in the low light of the hideout.

Your eyes widened with shock at the small relic in your hands, gold and dotted with two small emeralds and just a little bit bigger than a coin. 

You sucked in a breath. "Wilbur..."

"It's a Totem." Wilbur explained, "I've been holding onto it for a while now, but I don't think I'll be needing it."

"Wilbur, I can't take this--"

"That's not important." Wilbur retorted. "I just...I want _you_ to have it. If you have it in your hand, like this, if you die, it will bring you back to life."

Wilbur closed the small pendant in your fist, and you knew he wasn't going to budge on his impulsive decision.

So, instead, you looked up at him with pleading eyes and let out a breath just as people outside were beginning to call for Wilbur and Tommy to lead them into battle. Quickly, you wrapped your arms around your friend, pulling him into a tight hug which he quickly reciprocated.

"I feel like I can't thank you enough," you chuckled. "Hang in there for me, don't fall off a bridge and die or something."

He snorted, and nodded into your shoulder, "good luck out there. Beat the shit out of Schlatt for me, alright?"

"Wait..." You pulled away, resting your hands on his shoulders. "You're not coming?"

"No. I'll be there," he assured you with a smile. "I just...think I should give Tommy the chance to lead this one, y'know? I think it's about time."

You looked back over towards the crowd, which was chanting Tommy's name and irrupting in cheers at the blond's motivational words--all crowding around the entrance. 

You nodded in agreement, a smile working its way onto your face as you clasped the necklace around your neck and grabbed your shield off the wall. "You ready to cause problems on purpose, Wilbur?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

···

The battle irrupted into chaos in the blink of an eye.

You hung back from the middle of the battle; leaping to and from buildings and attacking from above--staying out of the way and out of sight. You ducked beneath stray fireworks and explosives, dodged arrows, caught ender pearls...all within a battle haze.

Dream was on Schlatt's side.

That was the only thing going through your mind as Wilbur barked orders at you and you fled to another building, kicking through glass and loading your bow with more of your arrows.

Dream _betrayed_ Wilbur.

Dream wanted to _kill you._

Right?

You yelped as a firework exploded in your field of vision, momentarily blinding you and causing a ringing to irrupt in your ears. You held your hands up to shield yourself from the glass that bursted towards you--before you continued pressing forwards. You caught sight of the man in question duck under a building.

No no...there was no way after everything the two of you went through that he would kill you.

He said it himself--he was the only person you could truely trust.

Dream wouldn't hurt you.

But, still, that nightmare you had...

And, just as suddenly as it started, the fighting stopped.

You blinked in confusion, still pressed up against the wall with cloudy vision and stunned eardrums. Distant yelling could be heard--but it was fuzzy, and unlike the usual rowdy screaming that came with war.

Confused, you pushed yourself to your feet and slid out of the door. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you before a familiar blond-headed teenager stumbled into view.

"Tommy, what are you--"

"Dream's surrendering!" Tommy said between breaths, "he says...he says he wants to show us something!"

You stopped in the doorway of the small shack Tommy dragged you to, completely frozen in shock upon what you had encountered. People scrambled up beside you--their curiosity overcoming them.

Schlatt stood against a table in the middle of the room. His netherite armor sat abandoned on the other corner of the room along with his weapons. He looked disheveled--his tie pulled apart and the top of his dress shirt unbuttoned. Sweat beaded across his forehead, occasionally dripping down from his skin and the other clutching a bottle of alcohol. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal the dark, infected mark of where your arrow struck him at the festival.

He looked up upon your entry, eyes bleary and unfocused. He chuckled weakly as his gaze swept the crowd, "what's this...what's this a surprise party or something?"

Tommy loaded his bow with an arrow next to you, and you held a hand up to stop him before he could suggest he ended it. 

Carefully, cautiously...you stepped forwards. People watched your every movement, muttering quietly to eachother as they collected around the ruins of the small structure.

"Schlatt," you began, words falling short as you found you didn't know what to say. "Schlatt, what the hell are you doing in here?"

"You..." Schlatt grabbed your arm, pulling you further down to his height. You recoiled at the potent scent of liquor and potions on his breath, backing up a step as his nails dug into the skin uncovered by armor. "You're...I thought you hated me...?"

"I-I don't, Schlatt. But you need to let me go."

"...You promise?" He stumbled into you; and you caught him before sitting him down in the chair at the table. "I thought that Dream bastard helped you escape...I was...."

"I need you to answer me," you insisted. "What is this? Are you..."

Schlatt's eyelids fluttered open and shut. His breathing was uneven, and a hand came up to clutch at his chest as he let out a groan that slowly tumbled into incoherent gibberish. He looked behind you, blinking the bleariness from his eyes before they widened.

_"You."_ He hissed suddenly, before shoving himself to his feet and directly towards someone behind you.

Fundy hit the wall with a yelp as Schlatt shoved him up against it by the front of his armor. The fox flailed under his grasp, kicking, clawing, and squirming. A glass bottle of whiskey fell to the floor with a crash.

"You son of a bitch!" Schlatt hollered as people scrambled to grab him. "You were my friend! You-- you--"

Fundy finally got a hand free, and he swung it around and punched Schlatt square in the jaw--you jumped to the side to avoid getting run into as the president fell to the floor.

"Listen to me, man!" Fundy insisted, panting heavily as everyone quieted again. He shook his clenched hand free of the blood on his knuckles. "You--you fucked up the country. You fucked up _Everything!_ You had a dream and I followed it. You brought everything downhill--you just ruined everything!"

Schlatt pushed himself to his feet, glaring daggers at everyone around him like a feral cat cornered against the wall. His eyes were wild with a sort-of disparity--as if it had just occurred to him that everyone had turned against him.

"I thought you were something." Fundy continued, standing up straight, "but it turns out...you're just nothing."

"Yeah, you know...I am something. I am something you're not, Fundy." Schlatt retorted with a sick smile, curling his fingers around the neck of a broken bottle and raising it up. 

"I'm a man."

You jumped in front of him suddenly just as the bottom of the bottle made contact with your wristguard. A loud crash erupted throughout the room as you lunged forwards and tackled the president to the ground.

"Schlatt! Stop this!" You yelled, ignoring the searing pain that erupted across the side of your face. "You're being an asshole!"

"Let me at 'em!" Schlatt insisted, failing for a moment before another sharp groan escaped him and his hands fled to his chest. "Let me--....let me at him..."

"Give it up, man." You let out a breath as you loosened your grip on his shoulders and sat back on your heels. "It's over. We have you cornered."

Schlatt's breathing came in quick gasps. If he wasn't already ghastly pale--he was now. He let out a pitiful groan as he fought the inevitable, one eye opened to send a final intense glare towards Wilbur over your shoulder.

"You know..." He chuckled weakly, "You know, if I die...this--this country goes down with me."

"Is this your leader, Dream?" Someone barked to the cloaked man to your right, perched atop a wall as he and his soldiers watched the chaos. "Is this what this country has come to?"

"This is not my leader." Dream replied calmly, gesturing to the dying president. "This...this is just pitiful."

Schlatt wheezed, "does anyone else smell toast?"

You sighed, heavily, as it occurred to you what you would have to do. 

Schlatt was a lot of things; but he didn't deserve go out this slowly. You had to finish what you started.

Damn it. You _did_ care for him.

You took your bow off your shoulder and pulled an arrow from your satchel, shaky hands lined the item up with your bow--but you hesitated.

"I'm sorry, Schlatt." You forced the words from your mouth.

"You...you're the only one..." He grabbed your sleeve as you met his gaze briefly. "N-not you too--"

No. Stop it. Focus.

This was for the greater good.

"You know..." You took a breath before pulling the arrow back. You tried to frace a smile. "You weren't terrible prison company. I'll see you in the next life, man."

"Heh...you're pointing the arrow in the wrong direction..."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you--"

You shot the arrow.

Schlatt's body went limp against the floor as everyone watched on in silence, struggling to comprehend the unfathomable amount of bullshit that had just occurred in front of them. The wind whistled outside as you stood up and wiped the blood from the glass indented in your cheek. Your heart sunk to the very bottom of your gut, and you found you couldn't tear your eyes away from the corpse. Nausea clawed at the back of your throat as the all-too-familiar guilt of the murder washed over you.

It was like time had frozen in place.

Tommy rested a hand against your shoulder, succeeding in averting your gaze from Schlatt's body before you. 

"We won." Someone said, breaking the silence.

Everyone seemed to blink in realization, turning to face eachother in shock before the energy in the room shot through the roof.

"We won!" Tommy repeated, pulling you and Tubbo down into a tight hug as the room exploded into cheers and laughter. "We won! Tubbo, we won!"

"He have our country back!"

"Well _that_ was anti-climatic."

"YEEAAAHHH!!"

"Holy shit! The old man's dead!"

You laughed along with everyone--giving Fundy a pat on the back, receiving a nonchalant nod of approval from Techno, spinning Niki around in the air before landing her back on her feet. Everyone was ecstatic despite the chaos and the trauma beforehand, simply happy to be united after so many weeks of tension and anger.

"Tom-my! Tom-my! Tom-my! Tom-my!"

"Everyone make way for the new president!!"

Your heart jumped, and you whipped your head around to meet Wilbur's gaze. "President?"

Wilbur's looked to you and nodded, a tired smile gracing his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He sighed as he watched Tommy get swarmed and guided towards the White House podium to give a speech, rocking forwards and back on his heels. "Yeah, I think it would be better for everyone if I...y'know...stepped down."

"Well, what are you waiting for??" You laughed, grabbing his arm and dragging him along. "We're gonna miss his speech!"

"I--" Wilbur went to object, but gave into your pushing and rushed to catch up as you bolted towards the podium and immediately took a seat in one of the chairs.

Tommy cleared his throat as he gingerly reached out to take the microphone with hesitant hands. His shocked eyes scanned the crowd that patiently waited for his speech to start, murmuring amongst themselves as their eyes landed on him. It was strange to see him suddenly so reserved, and he averted his gaze as he gathered his thoughts.

"Hello...everyone." Tommy began, before letting out a shocked chuckle. A small smile spread up his face as he stood up a bit straighter. "Well, it looks like we won."

The crowd erupted in cheers and clapping once again, and your heart thudded in your chest.

"And I--I never thought I'd say this...but even after the hardships, the tyranny we've been through...Wilbur, Tubbo, and others, after everything...it was meant to be."

"He said the thing! He said the line!"

"SHH! Let the man finish!"

Tommy was silent for a moment as his eyes scanned the crowd, and the smile he sported faded a little, "listen--thank you everyone, for making me the president. I know you said I never would be, Wilbur..."

Everyone was silent for a moment. A breeze blew by with the season's first few snowflakes. They came in small flurries and fluttered from above and around the chairs, before they landed on the podium and the area surrounding it.

Tommy ducked his head a little as he finished, "but I can't be the president."

The crowd erupted in gasps and murmurs, and you blinked, your smile falling.

"Because as much as this would have been everything..." Tommy's eyes flickered somewhere immediately behind you, his brow furrowed. "I've still got unfinished business. Because you've still got those discs, and I can't do this until we're done."

You heard a eerily familiar low chuckle behind you, and your hands tightened on the arms of the chair.

"So, that being said...." Tommy sighed heavily, before he looked up again and met someone's gaze. "Tubbo?"

Everyone turned to look towards the teenager, who stood up upon being addressed--still obviously very much phased and in shock.

"Tubbo, why don't you come up here and take your rightful place, yeah?"

The brunet's face lit up with the crowd, and he bolted up the steps of the White House as everyone erupted in cheers of approval. He beamed as he stumbled up to the podium and shared some unintelligible words with Tommy before shaking his hand. You watched as he pulled the microphone down to accommodate his height before Tommy rushed back down to the audience.

You stood up to meet him, holsing your arms out before he immeadiatelt engulfed you into a hug. He held you tightly, and let out a shuddering breath followed closely by a curse. You stayed like that for a moment as he collected himself. 

"You did good." You said to him, patting his back, "You did good."

He nodded, and whipped his hands down his face before joining you in the spot Wilbur once occupied. You thought nothing of the brunet's sudden absence, and instead tuned into Tubbo's speech."

"Ok, well um...I've been put on the spot here. I wasn't expecting to be up here surrounded with friends, enemies, um...which I really don't hate all that much, I'll be honest." He chuckled nervously, "but I enjoy seeing the unity, and I feel like that's really what matters. Everyone here was brought together; whether we were fighting against eachother, or together. And I feel like that's important. And I feel like...there's a solid future to be built on here."

Tubbo stood up straighter as he spoke, gradually becoming more sure of himself as it continued. "Yes, it has damages, but everything has damages. When I think of something that has damages I think of a piece of wood with nails banged into it. You can take the nails out but...there's still dents, okay?" He paused, eyebrows burrowing as he thought his statement over, and chuckled. "I'm really trying with my metaphors here, give me a minute..."

"Tubbo, you're killing it! You're killing it!"

"Great speech Mr. President!"

"Yessir! Yessir!"

"Okay, well, there's still holes...and the holes can be filled! And that's what I would like to do with my job as president." Tubbo continued, "I don't want to be an agent of chaos, I just wanna fix this place up a bit. And to do that, we need unity."

Everyone uproared in agreement, and the speech went on to announce the jobs of other people. Quackity as vice president, Sam as the secretary of Defense, and--surprisingly--you as a General once again.

Quackity was the one to suggest the idea, which you should have seen coming. And though you were hesitant to take up the position--Tubbo needed a body guard. Someone who had experience protecting, sneaking, and quickly finding threats within their surroundings.

Tubbo needed you.

And you owed it to him after stabbing L'manberg in the back.

So, you happily took the position--which was seen as the right decision within the crowd as they continued to cheer and laugh and congratulate you in passing. Soon everyone settled down as the sun began to set over the city--joking and forgetting the events that occurred earlier that day as they milled about and had an un-official party. You joined them happily, dancing unphased around a giant bonfire Fundy created in the shadow of the White House.

You had other matters to attend to, though. 

You realized that as soon as Niki placed a worried hand on your shoulder and pulled you around a corner. You yelped and stumbled at the sudden movement, and looked at her expectantly as she bit her nails and glanced around.

"Niki?" You blinked, "something wrong?"

"Didn't Wilbur come?" She asked in a hushed whisper, "I haven't seen him since he stepped out."

You blinked, remembering how you saw him stepping away from the White House. "He...he isn't here?"

"No, I looked everywhere for him. Tubbo said he left earlier saying he'd be right back."

Your face paled, and suddenly you were frozen with realization.

"Hey...you alright?" Niki waved a hand in front of your face, concerned. "What's wrong?"

You didn't have time to answer before you sprinted off. Your shoes dug into the dirt as you launched yourself as fast as your legs could carry you through the darkness. Your breath burned in your lungs as you pressed forwards, zig-zagging through buildings and past any rubble still smoking from the battle. A black shadow flashed by overhead--followed closely by the rush of wings as everyone shouted and moved out of the way for the unknown force to glide over head.

"Phil?!"

"IT'S PHILZA!"

"What's he doing here?!" 

A desperate yell left your mouth, loud enough to echo out into the world around you as you screamed, "WILBUR!"

As if on cue, the ground shook with an explosion with enough force to shatter the world around you--shooting you backwards and off your feet before you could even react. 

You tumbled backwards with a yelp.

Your head hit bricks.

The world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorta kinda early update due to me being spontaneously quarantined and already bored out of my mind smh 
> 
> sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger JFJKSD
> 
> next chapter, y'all can have some Techno. as a treat


	8. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local idiot gets accidentally adopted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHG
> 
> pacing felt a bit off with this one no matter how many times I rewrote it, so I hope its not too bad oof
> 
> next few chapters will make up for it doh, promise lmao

Snow fell in tranquil flurries, gently wafting down from the haze of clouds above and settling on the late-autumn ground. The chill in the air was nothing monumental, probably somewhere just below freezing and barely enough to cause any huge discomfort if someone took the necessary precautions.

A man trudged through the trees and underbrush, bare from the lack of leaves or from the fires that burned through the forest due to the events from a day or so before. The unmistakable stench of ash stung the air as well as the lungs who breathed it, a constant reminder that despite the eerie calm, the man needed to stay vigilant.

Two days on this new land and he was already a war criminal.

A new record, given the company he stuck with.

He stopped at the top of the hill, carefully lifting his damaged wings to the best of his ability and moving them a little to rid his dark feathers of the snow that collected in them--he flinched in the process and hissed with pain, the burns from the explosions still fresh on his damaged feathers. 

He smoothed the feathers back down, careful not to touch or disturb any tender spots, bumps, or the hopefully-not broken bones. He had been so busy with everything going on he hadn't had the chance to splint them yet--and he made a mental note to get it done asap so his companion would stop fussing over him. 

Said friend caught up to him, not too much further behind. They both took a moment to stare down at the carnage they caused earlier that week--some rebuilding had already started despite the fact that smoke was still rising in steady streams into the sky.

"Looks like Tubbo's already putting the walls." The blond stated indifferently, turning to his friend as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Out of...obsidian."

Techno's gaze remained indifferent, though one of his downturned ears twitched in minor interest as he gazed at the landscape. 

Technoblade was always a peculiar man. His appearance screamed of a product of war--nearly seven feet of lean muscle and the polar opposite of his friend in appearance. Philza was never even sure how the two ended up becoming friends to begin with--they just happened to run into eachother a lot and the similar beliefs and goals only furthered their partnership, soon forming into a long-lasting friendship.

"I'm not so sure that's Tubbo." Technoblade replied, not bothering to stop and admire the chaos as he slid back down the hill. 

Snowflakes littered Technoblade's hair; which was tied in a haphazard braid thrown lazily over his shoulder--different from his usual poneytail at the back of his head. His red cloak fluttered majestically in the wind, rattling the chains that held it in place at his front. He was dressed in stark contrast with his friend who only had one of Techno's old, spare cloaks to keep him warm at the moment.

Winter clothes were the least of their priorities right then, though.

The blond blinked at his friend, before jogging to catch up--placing a hand atop his head to make sure his hat didn't fly off in the process. "Who else would it be, then?"

"Dream upset that his only reliable pawn is dead, most-likely." Techno snorted, "just a little further this way."

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Pogtopia."

"Oh, alright." The blond stopped directly after the words left his mouth, and he blinked down at a small red speck in the snow that caught his attention. Carefully, he moved his foot to see more of the red stains smear in the snow.

Curious, he knelt down, tracing his fingers along a small indent in where the snow lay--like someone had walked by and the snow covered the tracks.

"Phil?" 

Techno's voice pulled Philza out of his haze, and he looked up to see his friend standing further down the hill. 

"Techno, uh..." he waved him over. "Come see this."

Technoblade glanced back over his shoulder, eager to get in and out of there before the sun set. He sighed in defeat, before climbing back up the hill to see what had led his friend so off-topic.

Red eyes blinked down at the crimson dots indifferently, and he looked back up again to meet Philza's serious gaze. "What?"

"It's blood, mate. That's what." He stood to his feet again, gesturing to the half-buried wobbling footprints. "Someone wondered this far from L'manberg injured."

"You don't seriously think..." Techno's brow furrowed as he connected the dots. "Philza. He's dead. There's no way he could have--"

"I know that, but..." Philza's brow furrowed as his friend's implications uprooted the pain of fresh wounds. It was one thing to think things, and a whole other thing to hear them out loud. The blond sighed heavily as he collected himself, meeting his friend's gaze again, "just...humor me a sec, would you?"

"Alright, alright..." Techno lifted his hands defensively, turning to follow the footprints. "No harm in checkin', I guess. Looks like they lead to Pogtopia anyway."

The trip carried on in silence as the pair continued on their journey. From the hill, it was only a short walk until the entrance to the ravine. Which Techno was quick to lead Philza to--sensing the urgency on his friend's mind.

It wasn't often either of them got upset over something. Philza supposed that was why they got along so well. Neither of them were fully emotionally, well, "there," but they both had each other's backs. The blond knew all too well that Techno had his demons, and Philza had his own ghosts to deal with.

Of course, this also made them very good at judging when something was on the other's mind, even when they didn't communicate it.

Which was exactly why the events that took place at L'manberg brought the partners in crime back together again.

"The door's open." Techno observed in careful wonder as he jogged up to the entrance, the vines that once hung over the the wooden door withered and dead with the quickly-approaching winter.

Philza followed suit, letting out a breath as he went to retrieve a torch from his bag.

Techno beat him to it, striking the wood against the stone of the cave entrance and igniting a flicker of orange light. 

They both observed in unease as a sizable puddle of blood made itself known in the darkness, just in front of the door. Paired with the disturbed marks of snow that suggested some sort of a struggle.

"Stay quiet, and don't wonder off." Technoblade advised, before carefully nudging the door open the rest of the way.

"Way ahead of you."

Pogtopia had a strange new energy about it now that it was abandoned. Not that it was anywhere near a cozy, safe place to begin with. The sound of water droplets forming and dropping from the ceiling down to the stone below echoed endlessly into the abyss. 

Techno stepped out onto the staircase first as Philza took in the sight around him.

Buttons lined every inch of the walls, under his feet, on the stalagmites, in the stairs...everywhere. Shadows danced in the light of Techno's torch, playing tricks on the eye and acting as a firm reminder to both the men just how grim this all was.

"Cold in here." Philza remarked, rubbing his arms idly as they dropped down to the bottom of the staircase, trying to grasp at any sort of conversation in order to distract himself.

Techno immediately began to search chests, simply humming in acknowledgment as he shifted through the supplies left over.

Phil frowned, before turning his gaze to the ground once again.

Small piles of snow had collected across the ravine. White light spilled in from the openings in the stone--allowing snow flurries to idly flutter down to the stone cavern below. The older man's curiosity was spiked again as the footprints from before were a lot more pronounced--and the blood trail a fresh, deep red.

He gripped the sword at his side and began to follow it, stepping away from Techno as he followed the fresh trail around a corner. His heart rate picked up more in his chest the bigger the blood splatters got, and the faster his footsteps became the more the footprints became uneven.

He finally came across a dark lump on the ground, coated with a fresh dusting of snow and curled into itself. He tilted his head in confusion, before the lump groaned and stirred a little--revealing the cloth of a brown trenchcoat that was eerily familiar...

The blond's eyes widened. He dropped his weapon and rushed over to the person while hissing a quiet, "shit!"

He flapped his wings painfully as he bent to his knees, stirring the snow around him as he turned the stranger onto their back and tossed their weapon to the side. They grunted, teeth chattering as their entire body irrupted in violent shivers. Philza swiped some hair from the person's forehead--lips tinted blue as the cold was starting to take a hold of their life--if it hadn't already.

This was a stranger in Wilbur's coat. 

What the fuck?

Whatever. It didn't matter. This stranger was laying there bleeding for who knows how long, and he'd rather not have another death on his conscience.

Even if it was someone affiliated with Wilbur.

He let out a breath before taking off his cloak and wrapping it around you, sliding his hands under your body and lifting you up. He wrapped his wings around himself in order to conserve any warmth that he could, before turning and running back to his companion down the ravine.

"Techno!" He yelled, "we've got a problem!"

···

You didn't remember falling asleep, but you didn't remember waking up, either.

You caught some small things about your surroundings. Blurred, fuzzy wisps of memories that all seemed to smudge together, and held no real definite chronological order or meaning to them.

The warmth of a fire. The smell of bread. Heavy footsteps against wood. A warm laugh. The itchy feeling of bandages on your skin. Worried faces. The clatter of potion bottles. 

You didn't remember opening your eyes, but yet you found yourself staring blankly at a white ceiling--eyelids slow and heavy and your head swimming with vertigo. You shivered, goosebumps crawling up your arms and causing your limbs to ache and shiver violently as you moved to nudge the blankets further onto yourself. They were thick, heavy; comforting--but still not enough to keep you from hugging your arms to conserve warmth.

Finally, after your mind returned to you and you could think clearly again--your fight or flight kicked in. Your heartrate fluttered in your chest and your breathing quickened, sending a new constricting pain through your chest each time you inhaled. You whipped your blankets aside and feverishly scanned the unfamiliar room for your sword.

Shit shit shit shit.

You stumbled to your feet and made a brink for the latter in front of you. You tripped, and a loud cry of pain left your throat as your vision darkened for a moment and you clattered to the floor a sweaty, pitiful mess. 

Immediately, footsteps rushed across the room below and up the ladder. You merely had time to recover and close your eyes in desperate attempts to calm the dizzying nausea that plagued you before gentle hands slid under your form and lifted you back up onto the bed. The unknown person said something, perhaps a curse, as you gasped for breath and struggled to make some distance between you and the stranger.

"No--" You swallowed back the bile that clawed at your throat as you struggled to sit up again. "Stop--"

"Don't sit up," the voice finally broke through the fog in your mind. It was quiet, careful. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

Finally, you settled. Fatigue overcame your shaking arms and your head fell back against the pillow. Sweat beaded down your face as your breaths came in quick, shuddering gasps. The strangers grip on your arms loosened after he was satisfied that you would stay down.

And, finally, you blinked your bleary eyes open.

The room was small, but cozy. A quickly-assembled fireplace was set aside in one corner, the flames sputtering and in dire need of more wood. A few chests were set aside against the walls, and a window resided to your immediate left. A small side table sat beside your bed--which was hastily constructed out of a spare mattress and a unnecessary amount of pillows, mostly to keep your injured leg levitated.

Your eyes lazily fluttered over to meet a tired, blue gaze almost completely overshadowed by a peculiar green and white hat. He dipped a cloth into some water, and you watched as he rung it out--sending droplets cascading back into its bucket. He was careful as he rolled it up and set it gingerly across your forehead. 

He was dressed in winter attire, which consisted of a thick light blue coat underneath a primarily red and white cloak held together by a chain in the front. Judging by the snow he tracked across the room it was probably safe to believe he was just outside. Shaggy blond hair just barely stuck out from beneath his hat, and he looked to have a couple decades on you--maybe in his thirties or fourties. His wings were folded awkwardly to accompany the small area of the room you resided in.

"There we go," he smiled a little. "Finally awake, yeah?"

You sputtered when you tried to answer, and coughed, and that's when the pain finally caught up to you. The soreness in your limbs, the dull ache in your leg, the way your lungs felt like they were on fire, the rolling of the nausea in your stomach, and the throbbing in your head. You fell back into the pillow as you cursed your own sickness quietly, screwing your eyes shut as you willed your headache into subsiding.

"Alright, so, here's what we'll do..." The man sighed softly, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Basically--he wasn't from these parts, that much was obvious.

"I'll talk, you listen. I think it's safe to say we both have a lot of questions; but we can ask 'em after I explain why you're here and who I am."

You nodded hesitantly in agreement, closing your eyes again. He didn't appear like a threat, and wasn't holding any weapons. You weren't in any danger...for now, at least.

The man cleared his throat as he began to speak. "The name's Philza. Or Phil, either's fine. I found you at the bottom of an abandoned base near L'manberg. Your leg's pretty scuffed, and it looked like you froze to death. Your sword and everything you were found with is downstairs."

You frowned as you recollected the fuzzy memory of what happened, and looked under your blankets to see that your leg was--indeed--bound to a splint. Much of it was blotched with stark, blackened bruises. You couldn't move it.

"What about you?" The man, Philza, encouraged. "What's your name?"

You went to tell him, but your voice came out a hush whisper, barely desipherable and painful enough to send you into another painfully drawn out coughing fit.

Philza hummed, "yeah...the cold really did a number on you. Might be that way for a few days until things have calmed down enough for us to get more shit to help your healing process."

You tilted your head in thought.

He sighed, averting his gaze forwards as his expression fell for a moment. "I guess you wouldn't know what happened...would you?"

Now you were even more confused. You shook your head.

"Well, there's no easy way to say it," he chuckled again, awkwardly this time. "But everyone thinks you're dead, mate. For good. How many lives didya' have left before this?"

You reached up and felt the chain of your totem under your shirt, and you blinked when you realized it was still there.

You didn't use it.

If it was even possible, you would have thought your face paled more than it already had. You swallowed and redirected your gaze before timidly holding up a two on your bandaged hands.

"Oh..." Philza blinked, his smile falling. "that's...I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner, then."

You shook your head and grabbed his arm, your tired gaze flashing with endless gratitude.

Phil smiled a little in understanding before moving to stand up again, being a bit more careful not to bump his wings into anything--which were kept in a strange position bound against his body by some haphazard bandages.

"Well," he said, "I have more questions to ask, but I think I've given you enough to think about for the time being. Again, sorry about, uh...everything."

You relaxed into the bed, staring off into space as your grip on the blankets tightened. You closed your eyes, your mind spinning with thoughts and memories as they slowly returned to you.

Yeah. No shit.

You still had one more question, though. One that would keep you up at night if it wasn't answered, and involved the second set of footsteps you heard pacing the floors above. You cleared your throat to get Philza's attention again, and pointed up to the ceiling.

"Oh!" Philza exclaimed. "That's just Techno. Don't worry about 'em, he's just shy."

"Heh?" A deep voice retorted from up the ladder, before promptly elaborating; "Phil, I can hear you from up here, y'know."

Philza laughed again, "Good, then you mine-as-well come down so you don't scare the fucking daylights out of 'em later."

First, there was silence. Then the sound of shuffling as the person mumbled to himself before descending the ladder.

Your eyes widened.

Techno wore clothes similar to his companion's--thick winter attire--but with more subtle accents of gold jewelry and netherite armor. It was then you realized you had never gotten a chance to see him up close until then.

Faint scars formed an X over Techno's face, splitting a pink eyebrow in two and running across his nose. Blood red eyes flashed with recognition as they looked at you through strands of pink hair dotted with snowflakes, and the two small tusks that sprouted from the piglin's jaw only added to his aesthetic as a whole.

You were frozen in place as a stare down commenced, your heart thumped in your chest as everyone waited for someone to break the awkward tension. 

Philza's gaze switched between you and Techno repetitively as he put the pieces in place. "Do you..." He turned to you. "Have you two met already?"

You frowned at Techno, narrowing your gaze as you muttered out a quiet and strained, "unfortunately."

"Ah. They speak." Techno snorted indifferently in response, raising an eyebrow. "Still keepin' up that stupid grudge?"

You didn't let up your glare.

"Great," the piglin sighed, grabbing the ladder again. "In that case you'll be thrilled to hear that this is _my_ house you're staying in. Tell any of your little war friends I'm here and I'll--"

"Techno." You turned to Phil, who was squeezing the bridge off his nose as he talked. "A word, please?"

Techno returned your glare for a few moments, his ear twitching twice in an unspoken retort.

You felt oddly like a child watching their older sibling get scolded.

"Tch." Techno finally gave in, averting his gaze. "You're lucky Phil's on your side, or I'd have thrown you out already."

You blew a raspberry at the piglin as he descended the latter, and Philza snorted at the childish gesture--immediately returning to his cheerful self.

"Nevermind him. He can be a bit of a pain sometimes, but he's a good guy." He said, turning to dim the lantern sitting on a nearby crafting table. "You get some rest, I'll be nearby if you need anything."

"Thank you." You whispered as loud as your voice could manage.

Philza turned to you once more just before descending the latter, his expression a bit more solemn. He was silent for a moment, before he shook his head free of whatever thought he was hung up on and smiled. "No problem. Don't feel the need to repay us or anything...just focus on getting better for now."

You returned the smile and nodded, before rolling over to sleep away the discomfort of your fever.

···

Your eyes batted open to be met with complete darkness--save for the fire that crackled warmly from the other side of the room; recently lit. You were grateful for the warmth, finding your fever to be much more bearable now that you had more than just blankets as a heat source.

You sighed, and burrowed further into the softness of your makeshift bed with the intent to doze off once again.

"...You didn't tell them what happened?"

"'Course I didn't. They have enough to think about already, it can wait for another time." Phil's voice replied in a hushed whisper, "but they don't need to know it was me."

"And what happens if they find out on their own?"

As you closed your heavy eyes once more, you caught the ending of a conversation just down the latter. A door opened with a creak in the moment of silence.

"Later," Philza decided. "I'll tell 'em later."

The door shut with a series of clicks, and you drifted back off into a deep slumber.


End file.
